Erebor 3022: Cursebearers Story 1 (revised)
by summerald
Summary: Post-LOTR AU! King Fili has called for a conclave of the Seven Families in support of the new King in Gondor, but not all dwarves are ready to let old conflicts die. As Fili tries to finalize a mutual defense treaty, one faction tries to make Kili the bargaining chip. And as much as he tries to hide it, Durin's Day brings with it the shadow of pain and suffering for Kili.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: This story is the revised version of Erebor: 3022, Durin's Day...the first sort-of off the cuff story that I posted nearly two years ago. As the story has grown and developed, I've always wanted to flesh it out a bit more, so here it is, re-drafted as it's being translated into German. Find the German language version under the author name **summerundJessie** , story title **Erebor: 3022 - 1 Cursebearer - Die letzten Schatten Morguls**. Welcome aboard!**_

* * *

 **Chapter One**

Kili, brother to the King of Erebor, caught sight of orc-arrows coming from the trees south of Erebor's western outpost before anyone else.

He raised his bow and fired—his arrow zinged away and quickly hit its mark. Moments later, a scrawny figure in a ragged cloak fell from a tree. Three other Erebor dwarves fired, and several more rogues toppled out of trees with garbled cries.

"Shields up!" Kili yelled to his troops, sending another arrow to the source of enemy fire. On the road ahead, a contingent of traveling dwarves took heed of the fight and pressed together, axes out.

But the attack was over. Five skinny goblins lay dead on the icy ground. No more shots were fired.

Kili charged ahead, his young lieutenant at his back with arrow nocked, ready to defend his prince. Several more of the Erebor Guard fanned out to search for more hidden archers in the trees.

"Common goblin," Kili muttered when he got to the first one, shoving it over with his boot to get a look at the creature's gnarled face.

One of the travelling dwarves approached, axe at the ready, eyes roving the road and the trees around them.

"Skinny and underfed," the traveler observed. "Any more?"

Kili eyed the traveller, yellow braids marking him as a Firebeard. "If there were," Kili said, "they've scattered by now." Kili looked up to see a trio of ravens swooping past. The birds said nothing, which told him the threat was over.

The newcomer, dressed in Ered Luin blue, glanced at the ravens, then nodded, and considering the battle commander in front of him, he bowed. "Brunsder of Ered Luin. At your service."

Kili returned the bow, hand on heart. "Kili, Prince of Erebor, at yours."

Brunsder nodded. "I thought it was you. Mahal's blessings, lad," he reached for Kili's shoulder and the two of them exchanged the soldier's greeting, hands on shoulders. "We are glad to see you. The war's over and the Ring's destroyed, but there are still a mighty number of highway robbers on the roads. Even," he looked askance at the dead goblins. "This close to Erebor."

"Especially this close," Kili acknowledged, glowering at the goblins. "They're no longer organized enough to mount a full attack, but there's more than one lair left in northern Mirkwood...we burn them off Erebor's lands, but they hide in elf territory and we are barred from following. We need Gondor's new treaty."

"Agreed," Brunsder said. Ratifying it was why he was here, after all—him and envoys from all seven dwarf kingdoms. "But not everyone's convinced, I'm afraid. We hear rumors of contention..."

"Yes," Kili acknowledged. "But we have not come this far only to give up the fight." Kili turned and walked Brunsder back toward the path.

"We have not, indeed," Brunsder agreed quietly. "How's your brother? News travels slow back to the Blue Mountains. When we heard of the losses of the last battle...two Kings fallen at the gate...we feared for Fili. For you both."

"Fili is fit as ever," Kili confirmed. He carefully didn't mention Fili's battle wound, that his survival had been a close thing. "Though our losses were terrible. Brand of Dale. Our cousin Dain of the Iron Hills." Kili put a fist to his heart in salute to their feisty old relation.

"May he rest in Aüle's Halls," Brunsder said. He looked at Kili in sadness and then spoke more quietly. "Have a care, lad. Someone among the seven families is intent on disrupting the enclave."

"And who would that be?" Kili deadpanned. He'd heard the same gossip and sincerely hoped Ered Luin and the Firebeards had nothing to do with it.

"No idea." With that, Brunsder re-mounted his pony and signalled his caravan of travelers forward. He looked at Kili, sad regret on his craggy face. "And I wish I did."

Kili nodded. Ered Luin was too remote to be a likely conspirator, and he was inclined to take Brunsder at his word.

"We'll follow you in," Kili said, stepping back. "Keep the vermin off your back." At this, a loud quork took Kili's attention and he looked up. A large, glossy raven backwinged and Kili held out an arm for it to land. "Tell the King that Ered Luin arrives," Kili said to it. The raven quorked once, nibbled on his coat cuff, and then took flight.

Kili stood back then, remaining watchful as the long line of travelers passed by. The last late autumn leaves were falling and morning clouds hid the sun, but the path was dry and their ponies moved on firm ground. Yet the caravan from Ered Luin was a bigger group than Kili expected, perhaps fifty dwarves altogether. Fili would be relieved to hear they were here—the Blue Mountains envoys were several days overdue and they had begun to worry—at least until the ravens had alerted them yesterday morning of a caravan near the edge of the Greenwood.

So today, Kili had ridden out to meet them.

"They've travelled well armed," Kili commented when his lieutenant archer, young Skirfir, came up beside him. Every dwarf in the contingent carried weapons—from swords and axes to bows and long knives.

"Aye," Skirfir nodded. Then Kili noticed several lasses riding past—some dressed in archer brown, some in forge red. He recognized them as Erebor trainees sent on exchange some four years back. When the war heated up, it had been deemed too unsafe to bring them back.

"And here's our own trainees, returning home." Kili smiled at them. "I know some Erebor kin who will be glad to see them again." But he sighed. Some of those kin had likely perished in the siege...they'd lost so many at that last battle at the gate, including Skirfir's own father. Kili stood beside the lad as the group passed on ponies, travel-worn and eager for the safety of Erebor.

"Welcome," he nodded to a trio of archer lasses with Erebor sigils on their coats, "Welcome home." One looked at him, then raised an eyebrow with a knowing smile and Kili felt his cheeks heat up.

He'd just meant to be polite. He looked away. Most of the time he sidestepped interested lasses as a matter of course. What else could he do?

 _Look elsewhere,_ he wanted to tell the archer lass. _You can easily find someone more suited._

And he was better off as a bachelor lad.

"My lord," a young lad greeted him with hand on heart as he rode past.

Kili nodded. A lad in healer blue. And right behind him, a tall fresh-faced healer lass with a single raven-dark braid and serious eyes—he couldn't help but admire her poise, and the lass had a good seat in her saddle.

One of the ravens flew past again. _No orcs, no gobs,_ it quorked. _No gobs._

The lass seemed slightly startled. She looked up and tracked the raven's flight, almost, Kili thought, as if she'd understood the raven's words. A moment later, the young healer's eyes met his, then she looked away.

He was imagining things. Only those with the blood of Durin in their veins could hear a raven speak.

Still, he looked again at the healers as they rode on.

* * *

Fili, King of Erebor, stood firm in full red-and-gold royal regalia on the battlements above the great Gate of Erebor.

A well-armed contingent of dwarves approached, their helms removed in respect, their ponies lined up three across, and one blue flag unfurled. A drummer beat a solemn cadence for their steps.

"Hail, Ered Luin!" The Guard Commander's words rang out.

Fili stood between the embrasures, raised his hand, and seven Erebor dwarves hoisted the royal banners high. They'd brought out the most festive of decorations and the Lonely Mountain indeed looked its best today, but the Gate had been properly repaired only six months past, and anyone with an eye could still see the great gashes of battle damage on the stone.

Fili hoped no one could see the battle damage on _him_. Hip pierced by a sharp lance, he'd been struck defending old Dain...and if Kili had not been quick to gut the bastard orc first, they would have both been flattened by its massive flail just as it had flattened their royal cousin.

Fili, stunned and in excruciating pain, had been whisked inside to the physicians, but he had no doubt that the entire mountain would have fallen that day if not for Frodo's deed in Mordor and Aragorn's victory at the Morannon.

By many sacrifices, the people of Erebor had endured; as had he, his brother, and his four young children, who'd spent the battle hidden deep inside the mountain with their royal mother.

Not all families had been so lucky.

Fili now faced the contingent of visiting dwarves with steel eyes. He was taking a chance, hosting such an enclave in support of Gondor's new King. Apparently he was the only Dwarf Lord brazen (or stupid) enough to do it. He'd heard the criticisms and objections already.

 _Still under the thumb of that wizard._

 _No dwarf will answer to the likes of a Ranger upstart._

 _What's Gondor's peace to us?_

Gondor's peace was everything, Fili believed. Mordor might have fallen, but evil forces still lurked in Middle Earth and dwarves were still a target, the Sons of Durin in particular. They needed that mutual aid treaty with Gondor. And the truth was he did in fact agree with Gandalf—Aragorn represented their best chance for peace going forward, and Fili meant for the Seven Kingdoms to stand with their axes and swords alongside Gondor's new King.

Fili knew it would be his job, as a royal Son of Durin, to convince them all that it was time for old grudges to be set aside and for the dwarf kingdoms to support Aragorn's treaties.

To be honest, he'd rather face a goblin horde than an enclave of his feisty brethren, but he meant to prevail.

With a final drum cadence, the Ered Luin dwarves halted just before the new bridge at the moat, hands on hearts in respect. Adhering to protocol, the Erebor Guard sounded the great battlehorns in their honor: deep, bass notes that could be felt in a warrior's bones.

The horns finished their notes and the sound echoed in the vale. Fili let silence return before he stepped forward.

"Hail, dwarves of Ered Luin! With your coming, the Great Enclave begins. I grant you entry and welcome to Erebor!"

He was answered with cheering from both the Erebor Guard and the travellers, and as the Gates were opened, blue and silver streamers mingled with red and gold. The folk from the Blue Mountain rode forward, crossing the moat and passing through.

Fili smiled and waved, moving to the side overlook to watch them pass. At the back, he noted the tall figure of his brother in chain mail and armor, bringing up the rear with ravens swooping past.

For a moment, the brothers' eyes met. Kili was alert, stern, and nodded once.

Fili returned the nod and understood his brother's unspoken message: remain watchful. Things are not what they seem.

* * *

Two days later, Fili, King Under the Mountain, tense with pent-up stress, cornered his brother during the enclave's mid-morning break. They stood just inside the King's study while his councilors mingled in the chamber beyond. The Great Hall outside held a milling crowd—it was the largest gathering of the seven dwarf kingdoms since before the dragon years and Erebor was decidedly packed.

"We haven't even completed the opening statements," Fili murmured through clenched teeth. "No one's staying on track. Grey Mountains is pushing to resolve several side issues before they'll agree to even start talks on Gondor's treaty…" He shook his head. "And I've had six different private warnings about intentions to disrupt the proceedings." He glowered, then pinned Kili with a keen eye. "Anything from the ravens?"

Kili frowned. "I have them flying wide circuits...but so far, the only interesting news is an increase in elf patrols on the edge of the Greenwood. The Dale troops are alert, but they're only watching."

Fili let his breath out.

"I've heard more rumors as well," Kili lowered his voice. "From several of the Iron Hills lads and a bit more from the group out of Ered Luin," Kili said to his brother.

"Anything specific?"

"Just that factions against the treaty are planning to stop it."

Fili muttered a short curse in Khuzdul.

Kili went on. "Bofur spent last night drinking ale with the Blue Mountain guard. He says, _look for ploys to disrupt the voting._ "

Fili narrowed his eyes. "Not hard to accomplish. All they have to do is prevent one of us from attending," he said. "All seven must be present for a vote to go forward." He frowned. "One of the Grey Mountains lords keeps making ridiculous demands. If I wanted a suspect, I'd start there."

"Yngvli," Kili went on, naming a Grey Mountains merchant known for trading ore to the Gundabad orcs in times past. "He showed up with their contingent. Brought his daughters..."

Fili snorted. "Looking to arrange a marriage? Who'd be foolish enough to take that bait…?" He looked away. "Not even An can stand them, and we all know she has more patience than any of us."

"Well, thank Mahal for that."

Fili nodded. He knew what a political marriage was about, having been matched with a lass from the Iron Hills some sixty years ago. Lucky for him, Balin had looked out for their interests and engineered the arrangements, but both brothers understood the pressures and the complications. Fili and An's first years had been more than a bit rocky, yet Fili had come to deeply love his Lady Wife for herself, not to mention her deft ability to manage both the court social matters and four active young dwarrows while never losing her cool. During the last war, she had managed the city under siege like a seasoned warrior.

If four bairns wasn't proof enough (twice the usual number), it was apparent any time Fili looked at her that she had come to love him with a fierce pride.

"You are very lucky to have her," Kili murmured.

"Yes," Fili's voice was firm. "Mahal willing, maybe someday you'll be lucky too." Fili's love for his four children was well known. "Look, there's a huge banquet tonight," Fili said, hand on his brother's shoulder. "Go mingle. You'll hear more news. Add enough food and drink and people will be talking…especially the maidens. They'll be keen to catch your eye...they'll tell you anything."

Kili said nothing. He had absolutely no desire to spend time with high-born lasses. When he looked up, he saw his brother's eyes, full of concern.

"How's your knee?" Fili asked.

"It's fine," Kili waved a hand. "Hasn't bothered me at all so far."

Fili's face was still. Kili still bore a terrible wound.

"Things have changed. Sauron is gone," Fili said. "Maybe this year you'll be fine."

Kili stayed quiet.

Fili pulled his brother into a quick embrace, held him briefly in a tight hug. "Get your mind off it. Go have some fun at the banquet. Dance, flirt...spend a little time with the lasses." He stepped back. "Tell me you will try." He said it as a direct order from the King, not just a request from a brother.

"All right. Yes. I will try."

"Thank you." And then Fili turned back to the open Hall, intercepted by two pages and the assistant clerk who seemed to follow him everywhere these days.

Kili sighed. Count on a brother to know exactly how to punch a guy in the gut. Fact was, he could admit to himself that he was lonely. Fili was more and more tied to the schedule of the Court, and Mahal knew that the security of Erebor took his own time and attention to its fullest.

It was true that things were quieter now with a King again in Gondor.

And because of it, Kili could feel his loneliness. It was like an aching war wound in the early morning hours when he woke in the dark. It was hollow regret late at night when he returned from long patrols to his empty chamber alone.

 _But high-born lasses…?_ Mahal. The over-primped gossips held no interest for him. In his heart, he was just a lad from Ered Luin, happier hunting out on the Mountain's western slope than mingling with the social crowd. And he just couldn't believe that any lass would really understand what happened to him every year…

What would happen in just a few days, in fact. Because it had happened every Durin's Day for the last eighty one years: the recurring fever from his morgul wound. Nightmares, voices in his head, visions of wreck and ruin…

It was a curse and the curse drew wraiths. Only the Mountain protected him. He was tied to Erebor and remained safe as long as he never left its lands. It was a family secret they'd kept closely guarded over the years for fear of what Sauron could do if he'd known. It was a curse that not even Gandalf had been able to break.

What lassie would put up with all that? What family would accept him if the truth were known?

The only two who might have understood were both gone. Tauriel...the elf lady who had saved his life more than once and then perished in that horrible roaring inferno of dragonfire in Laketown. And Jô...rough and tumble archer lass he'd met some forty years ago...first-rate fletcher and a merry soul. She was no one to the highborns, but if times had been different, she might have Chosen him, might have stayed when she learned of his curse.

But times had not been different and Jô had fallen in battle against an incursion of goblins. He'd not even known until two days later. She'd been under Dwalin's command, and his venerable cousin had brought him the news with great sadness.

Kili sighed. Their friendship had been passionate and fun, but what had started so impulsively in the spring was done before autumn. She had been a warrior, and she had lived and died a warrior without ever learning that he bore a morgul wound. He blessed her memory, and then he forced himself back to the here and now. Honestly, he'd rather fight wargs than dance with highborns tonight.

But he understood why he needed to.

He would go. But dejected, Kili strode for the guard quarters, finding solace the way he always did: in his duty to Erebor's people. That, at least, he could understand.

* * *

 _**A/N Thanks so much for reading! Huge thanks to Jessie152 for the German-language version, and special thanks to BlueRiverSteel and Cassandrala-please go check out their work if you haven't seen._

 _Please-leave a note or PM and let me know what you think! Mahal's blessing, Summer_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Even after promising his King, Kili managed to avoid the evening's celebration by immersing himself in the work of guarding Erebor-even the least favorite parts. On his desk waited a pile of requisitions from his duty captains and if Kili knew one thing about being a commander, it was to make sure his dwarves had the tools and equipment they needed-and those things required funds, which required his approval. Couldn't give away the treasury, after all. So he sat, turned up the flame in his oil lamp, and read the first request.

First up: the North Slope Archers required manufacture of a new arrowhead design and Kili found himself instantly fascinated. His eyes roved the detailed drawing of the new broadhead, noting three off-set razor-sharp blades and the chiseled, piercing tip.

 _Perfect for a sharp-shooter,_ he realized, suddenly wishing he had time to test one himself. _You've a whole stack of these to go through,_ he chided himself, setting it down and grabbing a quill. Unlike Fili's more elegant signature (of which even old Balin had approved,) Kili signed with a quick scrawl that more closely resembled a smith's chop-mark than a Prince's signature-four verticals like a claw mark with a jagged slash that served both the K and L.

Balin had always despaired of his penmanship, but Kili did not care. His eye found the line and his pen hit the mark. That was what mattered.

He had just signed several requisitions and approved the re-supply of the Iron Hills folk in the northern halls when he heard the cry of _"Kharak! Alarm!"_ in the outer hall.

Kili was on his feet and through the door in a heartbeat, almost relieved to have something to attend.

"Report!" he demanded, finding a breathless cadet facing his clerks.

"Rock fall, my lord," the cadet said.

"Anyone hurt?"

"Not that we know."

"Where?"

"West of Ravenhill."

Kili frowned. That was solid granite. "Shearing?" The cadet was joined by a grim-faced captain who'd rushed in.

"No, my Lord. That rock did not fall on its own." He tilted his chin down to show his suspicions.

Kili raised an eyebrow. Erebor was a mountain-one infused with strong dwarven magic, but a real mountain all the same. It was natural for stone to settle and for weather to shape it, and Kili, as Commander of the Guard, heard weather reports constantly. The day had been cold but not stone-breaking cold. He'd heard predictions of storm on the way, but it was a day or two off.

"Describe what you saw," Kili prompted, grabbing his gloves and starting down the corridor at a good pace, the captain and cadet scurrying to keep up.

"We were on the outpost northeast of the Cockscomb, sir…"

Kili nodded. He knew that the rock formation well.

"The ravens were in an uproar-circling and screaming. Then my Lieutenant was pulling me back just as we saw something shoot away from the rock like a great dusty meteor-and then the outcropping just gave way."

"Just like that?" Kili asked.

"Just…" the captain made a shooting motion and then spread his hands. "As if someone shot a cork and then pulled the wrong cube out from under the puzzle stack."

Kili nodded. The image of the shot cork was a dead ringer for a blasting charge. Drill a hole, drop in the charge, and when it went off, a cloud of dust would shoot out just before the stone cracked and the rock slid.

And he knew for a fact that all exterior mining was on hold until after the treaty deliberations concluded and all the guests were gone.

 _And here we are, only on day one…_ He recalled the words from Brunsder of the Blue Mountains. _Have a care, lad. Someone among the seven families is intent on disrupting the enclave._

"Did you see anyone in the area?" he asked.

The cadet looked ashamed, as if he'd been caught neglecting his duty. "No, sir."

Kili considered this. "If it had been set intentionally, someone would have set the charge much earlier and triggered it from a distance." Kili strode for the Hub, the great hollow heart of the mountain-lit with long lines of oil lamps that glowed like strings of golden orbs rising from the depths and ascending high overhead. He took one of the great staircases down to the gate level, using a few little-known shortcuts to dodge crowds of visitors-and there were hundreds of them out this evening, standing on the balconies and admiring the view of stone and light. "I see no dereliction," he reassured the lads. "I appreciate your observations."

The dwarves with him nodded.

"And there were ravens about?" he asked.

"Yes, my Lord," the captain said.

Kili frowned as he turned to lead them down a great stairway. The ravens would tell him what they knew and saw, but he would have to wait for daylight. Ravens were essential allies in the defense of Erebor, but they roosted at nightfall.

When he made it outside to the Cockscomb, lanterns showed him what he needed to see. Kili was enough of a stonesmith (having some of the affinity his Lady Mother had possessed when it came to stonework) to read the signs.

"That is not a shear zone," Kili declared. "This stone," he moved his lantern in a slow arc. "Would not have failed in this direction without help." He handed the lantern to one of the guard and grabbed a hammer and spike, heading down a thin trail to the place where workers had already started clearing debris. He poked around, leaned close and motioned a lamp over, and plucked out a fist-sized stone with the unmistakable marks of blast grit.

He pocketed the stone and turned to help the workers, driving his spike into just those points that would crack stone and break up the larger rocks, making the job of clearing the perimeter easier.

Two hours later he was satisfied that the job would be done by sunrise and he nodded his approval. By now, Fili would be wondering where he was...and while he was personally fine with missing a party, he did not really wish to disappoint his brother.

On the way back to his quarters, he made one stop at the miner's public hall to have a word with the Masterminer.

"Whatever are you up to on party night?" Bofur was his usual jovial self, surrounded by laughing and shouting miners well into their holiday feast.

"Rockfall that might have been set," Kili said in a low voice.

Bofur's eyes narrowed. "You have proof?"

Kili offered the stone he'd found.

Bofur held it up to examine it. "Blasting grit, all on this side," he said.

"My thinking exactly," Kili nodded, accepting a flagon from a serving lass. He and Bofur looked at each other but said no more.

"I've a mind to get a better look at sunrise," Kili said.

"I've a mind to join you," Bofur replied. Realizing that the lads around them were wide-eyed and expectant at the sight of their Masterminer and their Prince, Bofur raised his flagon. "To Erebor!" he cried.

 _"_ _M'imnu Durin,"_ Kili answered, holding his tankard high as well. "In Durin's name!" He downed his ale in one long drink, eliciting happy shouts, roars of approval, and calls for more-clearly making the lads glad of the blessing.

Half a bell later, Fili's pages found him there, with a demand from the King for his presence in the Royal Hall.

"Tell him I was working on a rock fall and I'll be there as soon as I clean up." One of the pages trotted off. The other stayed.

Kili gave the lad his best glower, but the page stood still. "My orders, Lord. To stay with you until you arrive in the Hall."

"Meddlesome, my brother is." But Kili capitulated and allowed the youngster to trail him to his private rooms. There he found his brother's junior chamberlains impatient to see him properly dressed.

"The Lady An tells us she cannot convince her princely sons to courtly manners if their uncle ignores his appearances," the senior chamberlain stated.

Kili took the hint, bathed quickly, and presented himself to the chamberlains for dressing.

They were adjusting the fall of his cloak and the angle of his dress buckles when shouts once again erupted in the outer halls, shouts which included young angry voices.

Kili looked at the page in attendance and the lad vanished, reporting back a moment later.

"The Royal Princes, sir. Some sort of scrape with lads belonging to one of the visitors."

Kili considered whether to get involved, then heard the heart-rending frightened scream of a wee lassie—unmistakably Fili's youngest, his little daughter, Iri.

He broke upon a melee in the hall with a calculated roar. Young Hannar stood protectively over his wailing little sister, while Fjalar and Gunnar double-teamed a pair of chubby older lads wearing Iron Hills colors, who were in turn backed by a pair of uncertain pages who clearly recognized Erebor's princes.

Kili quickly sized up that Fjalar was getting the upper hand, but Kili knew he couldn't let the lad continue. He waded in and extracted Fjalar and Gunnar each by the scruff of the neck, raising a cold eyebrow when Fjalar turned in a fit a temper and raised his fist before recognizing his Uncle Kili.

And then the lad's face paled and he deflated so quickly that Kili nearly laughed. He knew the young prince would stand up to chamberlains and pages but did not dare cross his Uncle.

Kili put the boys on their feet, demanded apologies from all around, and threatened not only 500 lines from the schoolmaster but 500 push-ups from the armsmaster as well.

"But Uncle. They _hurt_ her. She's _bleeding_." Fjalar protested in a growl, looking up at him with a glower that reminded Kili not so much of his brother as of their uncle Thorin.

Kili knelt and picked up the sniffling lass, her arms clinging tight around his neck. He stood and asked for the details. The Iron Hills lads had been secreted into the Princes' playroom for fighting games, but when the excitement attracted the little princess, she had become a hostage. The Iron Hills lads had escaped into the halls with her and that had prompted all-out battle. A scrape on Iri's forehead attested to the roughness of the ensuing ambush and the accidental swipe to her head.

"I'll fetch a medic, My Lord," one the nervous pages offered, scampering off.

Kili had a clean handkerchief in his pocket and used it to dab her war wound.

"Head wounds always bleed the worst, sweetheart," he crooned. "I should know. I've had plenty."

Her sniffling changed from frightened child to the sort designed to wring more sympathy from her uncle. Still, it wrenched his heart and he tried to soothe her, aware of his nephews still glaring at the contrite Iron Hills lads, despite the round of enforced apologies. _Hostilities,_ he realized, _could break out again at any moment._

He didn't see the medic until he felt a gentle touch on his arm. He turned, expecting to see one of the studious young lads…but it was one of the healer matrons, an older lass. Kili struggled to recall her name. _Hrae,_ _Lady Wife of Var,_ he remembered. _Hardy axehand, that fellow._

The healer concentrated on his niece's scrape. "Oh, sweetheart,"she breathed. "You've got a bump." She deftly gathered the young lass into her arms and nodded for the pages to lead them into the royal children's quarters.

"I ducked, but I wasn't quick enough," he heard his niece begin to chatter. Hrae had little ones of her own, Kili recalled, seeing her toss her long healer's braid over her shoulder.

And then his thoughts went instantly back to young healer lass he'd seen earlier riding in with the Ered Luin contingent-taller and less buxom than most, fresh-faced, and straight dark hair pulled back in a long braid. He recalled her sitting astride her pony and how she'd been alert to the ravens.

"My lord?" He turned to see one of the pages motioning him back to the chamberlains.

"Yes, of course," he said, aware of his duty. What was he thinking? And why recall that particular Ered Luin rider? He turned his mind back to the matter at hand.

Once the lads were sent back to their rooms and the chamber guards reinforced against further childish shenanigans, Kili returned to the royal chamberlains for one last check of his attire, and then excused himself with Fili's young page in tow.

He tried to focus on presenting his most amenable face to the revelries in the hall, but for some reason, his brain went right back to thinking about the fresh-faced young medic from Ered Luin, of all places. Did he know her? Was her family here? He couldn't recall an introduction, but it was true that he didn't know everyone in Erebor any more. The population had swelled since the fall of the dark lord and was growing bigger every day.

But the lass was here now. He'd seen her arrive.

Tomorrow, he decided, he would have more than one question for Erebor's ravens.

* * *

 _ ** _**A/N:_** Thanks so much for reading this REVISED version of the first Durin's Day story, which I'm working on for the German language translation. Hand on heart to you!_

 _Changes? Yes, a certain dwarf lass has been traded here for a new character...apologies, but one of the shortcomings of the first version was that the love interest develops way too quickly and far too conveniently. If you can bear with, I'm just seeking ways to draw that out a bit and not have it be quite so sudden and implausible. Also, shifting the plot emphasis to the problem of Erebor's security rather than the hastily throw-together romance bits. I accept that some readers may still prefer the original; it's still posted in the original version, so your choice!  
_

 _ **Also, feel free to take a look at Jessie152's German translation of this story**. Even if you don't read German, I invite you to leave a review or comment, and writing in English is fine! Search Writer = **SummerundJessie** and you'll find it! Feel free to "follow" as well!  
_

 _And breaking news: I bought a ticket to Hobbitcon! If you will be there the first weekend of April, let me know!_

* * *

 _Age references for Fili's children: Fili and his lady wife, An, have four children-twice the usual number. Dwarves have a much longer lifespan than humans. I'm not entirely sure how quickly young dwarves mature, but if you'd like a reference for Fili's children: Fjalar is the equivalent of about a 14 year old human. Gunnar (or Gunz) is equal to a 9-10 year old. Fili has two younger children: Hannar, equal to a 6 year old and Iri, the only lass, equal to a 4-5 year old. They would have been born in the past 20-60 years, before the War of the Ring.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The Royal Hall roared with laughter and excited chatter, the revelry well underway. Durin's Day was officially in two days' time, but it was never too early to begin the feasting and, of course, the drinking.

Kili found it easy to slide into the crowd, and if he hoped that the page tailing him would finally leave off, he was disappointed. The lad simply changed places with one of the others and trotted off to report, leaving Kili with a new minder. The lad looked at him levelly.

He thought briefly of ditching the boy…it wasn't as if he didn't know a hundred ways to shake an unwanted tail…but as he glanced around the crowded room he noticed who else was watching. Dwalin, from an honored place near the King's chair. Gloin, from within a circle of scholarly admirers near the roaring fireplace, and even old Dori, pretending to tempt a bevy of over-dressed ladies with a tray of delicacies from the table.

And then several off-duty Captains of the Watch were before him, offering Durin's Day greetings and bowing in respect, and Kili honored them with return bows, his courtly manners compelling him to ask about their families and compliment them before their peers. They beamed at him, and before long he was easily caught up in the chatter and jokes, allowing himself to be led further into the crowd for yet more introductions and greetings.

Skirfir, his young Lieutenant, brought a pair of frothing ales and with a word in the page's ear, relieved the young lad of his duty.

Kili had never been so happy to see his young protégé. He tapped flagons with the young archer and drank deeply with him.

"Have you seen Brunsder?" Kili asked when he'd drained his share, appreciatively wiping the froth from his upper lip with the back of his hand.

Skirfir nodded, last ale still in his mouth and struggling to keep up with his Prince. He raised his flagon in the direction of a knot of Firebeards gathered around a long table. Kili smiled and made a point of greeting the Blue Mountains' commander.

"All settled? Are your quarters to your liking?" Kili asked when he returned a hand-on-heart bow with the hardy Blue Mountain dwarf.

"Very much so, my Lord," Brunsder inclined his head. "After thirty-seven days on the road, rooms underground are a blessing from Mahal, lad."

Kili blinked. "Not your entire group in one place, I hope."

"Not at all." Brunsder assured him. "The trainees, of course, are with their crafts. I saw the healer trainees to their Hall myself—though I'm afraid they've been put straight to work." He nodded toward one of the trainees, dressed in healer blue with an emblem denoting Ered Luin still on her arm band.

"We've a bit more folk here than usual," Kili said. "That one seems to know her way around, at any rate."

"Aye," Brunsder nodded. "Four years away was not long enough to forget _this_ place," he raised an eyebrow to acknowledge Erebor's significance to any dwarf.

Kili let himself be turned toward Brunsder's captains, exchanging yet more pleasantries and answering yet more questions. Skirfir kept Kili's flagon filled, and the young archer even managed to deter several giggling lasses and send them in the direction of the dessert table.

Kili snorted silently at the over-dressed flirts. If he was going to consider ladies, it was the young healer maiden who stood out in his mind—here on duty when by rights she should be allowed to enjoy a _welcome home_ evening. He scanned the crowd for her, not seeing the lass anywhere. He wondered who her kin were and if she had joined them for the celebration.

And that's when he saw her again, bending to speak quietly to one of An's ladies in waiting, an older lass heavy with child.

There was definitely something about that lass and he found himself fascinated by the way she moved—fluid, easy...and with a cute, quirky swing of her hip now and then.

He watched her, unaware that young Skirfir followed his gaze to discover what had his commander's attention.

Kili couldn't take his eyes from her. That lass was no simpering wallflower like the highborn ladies. She was a lass with purpose, a lass with her own craft and skills. She understood duty and honor. So intent were his thoughts that he never realized how long his gaze stayed on her or that he smiled as he watched—she was there, adjusting the shawl of an old timer (again, the cute hip thing) and then across the way, making a polite bow to an older matron.

Then a plump silversmith stepped into his line of sight, bowing and introducing Kili to his son and daughter, the lass covered in so much silk that he couldn't tell her arms from her ruffles. He carefully hid his annoyance and bowed.

Much later, when it was time for the toasting, he stood at his brother's side and Kili dutifully raised his flagon and applauded Fili's words.

Finally, Fili raised his hands and invoked the traditional blessing on the gathering.

He spoke of Durin, eldest of the seven fathers, and of the vision of Durin's crown and seven stars reflected in the water of the Mirrormere. And Fili repeated the traditional phrases everyone expected to hear about Durin's people celebrating the beginning of the year according to the first day of the last new moon of autumn.

Then Fili, King of Erebor, spread his strong arms wide. "Allow me to welcome all of you to these days of thankfulness, good friends," he finished, his voice resonating in the great hall, lit softly by braziers reflecting the veins of gold in the stone. He ended with hand on heart as he spoke the customary words. "May Mahal keep you and mithril find you... _mukhuh Mahal udnîn zu ra sanzigil umkhûh zu._ And this year, of all years, may we prosper in peace and kinship."

The gathered crowd raised flagons in response, murmured happy replies, drank to the memory of Durin, and well-mannered applause broke out.

With the blessing concluded, Kili smiled as party goers turned to embrace their kith and kin, and Fili's eyes met his.

"Well done," Kili said, pulling his brother into a warrior's embrace. "You grace these halls with honor, _nadad_."

Fili slapped him on the back and grinned. "I'm just glad to see you finally joined us."

Kili laughed, knowing how important it was for the visitors and the people of Erebor to see the King and his brother together.

Then Fili's hand was hard on the back of his head, pulling him close enough to touch foreheads. "Maybe this is the year that it's over," he whispered fiercely.

Kili felt a stab of dread in his heart. "Maybe," he murmured. One hand found Fili's and gripped tightly. Yet in his heart he held no hope of that. Eighty-one years of living with a curse—with the pain and agony of it—had taught him to endure it and not wish for impossible things.

He heard Fili's sigh as they stepped back.

They looked at each other and Fili nodded once.

And then old Dori was there, begging leave to introduce a Stiffbeard noble and Kili stepped away to accept a bid for attention from one of the Erebor merchant families. They had a young lad of age to begin warrior training and Kili approved.

"We'll begin a new class this spring," he said to the likely fellow. "We can use more hefty lads like you. Be sure to answer the call when the recruitment begins."

The lad looked stunned and his proud father beamed.

Quite some time later Kili turned from a formal toast with masters from the stonesmith's guild to find himself face to face with a startled trainee, very nearly knocking her over. It stopped him in his tracks.

It was the lass from Ered Luin, her bright eyes wide, her expression suddenly blank.

She bowed her head. "My lord, I apologize." Her cheeks flushed.

"For what?" He'd had enough ale by now to feel blissfully chatty with anyone. For some unexplained reason, he had the sudden urge to pull her close and kiss her ear. Just there. After all, it was a party and her ear looked so pretty without the over-done decorations of the older ladies. Just a little dash of star-white gems...it was perfect.

Then he looked away, his brain whirling. There was _nothing_ appropriate or honorable about that impulse. _The ale is getting to you,_ he chided himself, and Skirfir was suddenly nowhere in sight and unlikely to rescue him.

When he looked back, the healer Hrae had stepped to the trainee's side, saving them both from further awkwardness.

Behind him, he heard a familiar voice: his sister-by-marriage, the Lady An, Queen of Erebor.

"Well, little brother, I hear you brokered a successful peace accord in the nursery," An's voice was light and carried good humor.

"He did indeed, My Lady," Hrae smiled.

Next to her, the poor healer trainee sunk to a full court curtsey before her Queen.

"Ah, my Ladies, now look what you've done." Kili smiled at his brother's wife.

An handed the poor girl up.

"The nursery was indeed a challenge," Kili said, providing a distraction while the poor lass gathered herself. "But our good healer Hrae provided aid to the wounded after the cease fire." He inclined his head to the elder healer, hand over his heart.

Hrae graced him with a tilted head. "Allow me to introduce you to one of our own, recently returned." She had an arm around the shocked girl's shoulders, older healer to younger.

"May I introduce Nÿr, a lass of Dale who trained in Erebor."

And Kili instantly recognized what the vagueness of that introduction really meant—that the lass had no surviving family. It was unfortunately an all too common story among Erebor's younger dwarves—one he knew his brother hoped to change. _No wonder she's working on a night when everyone else is with kin_ , Kili realized.

Lady An looked at him with expectation in her eyes. Hrae nodded and excused herself to follow a beckoning page.

"You are recently back from Ered Luin," Kili remarked to the lass.

She nodded, looking half paralyzed.

Kili chided himself and recalled his manners. He reached gently for the young healer's hand and bowed, letting his lips barely touch the back of her fingers. "Kili," he said. "At your service."

She had long fingers for a dwarf. It made him smile.

"Nÿr, my Lord Prince, at yours and your family's." She said it formally, but he liked her voice. Warm and soft.

"His name is _Kili_ ," Lady An said to the young healer, laughing gently. "Just Kili." With a certain nod and a wink, she patted her husband's brother on the arm before she let someone pull her away.

Kili gave Lady An a nod of respect and when he looked back, the healer apprentice had gone—now ten feet away on the arm of a grandmotherly lady who fanned florid cheeks.

He turned to find old Dwalin watching him and covered his unsettled feelings by raising his flagon and joining the senior dwarf, electing to distract the wiley oldtimer by soliciting advice about the increasing rockfalls on the western terrace.

.

.

.

* * *

 ****A/N:** **Apologies for the slow roll-out of the revision...** and super-Kudos to Jessie, who juggles work and writing (same for me!)

And extra shout-out to her for this fun little quaffing detail between Kili and Skirf-she suggested it, I approved!

"Have you seen Brunsder?" Kili asked when he'd drained his share, _appreciatively wiping the froth from his upper lip with the back of his hand._

Skirfir nodded, _last ale still in his mouth and struggling to keep up with his Prince._

One big point of the rewrite is to enhance the very beginning of the Kili/Nyr story arc and show the natural progression...I sincerely hope this version adds more detail and builds up to the key moments a little better than the original, which was dashed off as an experiment. Rest assured, the "key moments" will be preserved but perhaps be more fully drawn. My hope is to stay true to the impulsive Kili of AUJ/DoS but show him with a bit more maturity...after all, he is twice the age he was in the book/films.

I think the biggest change to this chapter is adding Skirfir in a bigger way and in easing into the Kili/Nyr introduction by way of Hrae...Let me know what you think! All feedback welcome!

And we should be a *little* faster with the next couple of chapter. ;-D

This revision is being simul-posted in German on FanFic—even if you don't read German, please take a look and if you've favorited or followed this version, please consider a fave/follow of that one—it helps build momentum and attract new readers. Your support is deeply appreciated.

Find it under writer: summerundJessie

Story: Erebor 3022 - 1: Cursebearer - Die letzen Schatten Morguls

 **Mahal's Blessings! Thank you so much for reading!**

 **-Summer**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

At noon the next day Kili stood in the cold wind on the western terrace with the Stonesmiths, listening to their theories and arguments regarding the instability of the slope around the rockfall. To his dismay, several merchants and other visitors had arrived to look at the damage and add their worry.

Even old Dwalin had hobbled his way to the perimeter, leaning heavily on his staff.

"It would be better if we could get up there and really poke around," said the chief Stonesmith.

Another shook his head. "It's too unstable. From here, I'd say the problem is contraction of the stone in the cold weather."

"Looks more to me like it's a weak rock face loosened by the munitions used in the last battle," said another one of the construction experts.

"As a general matter of concern," one of the richly dressed merchants complained. "Does anyone know just how much of the mountain is equally unsound?" He looked around importantly as if to imply that Erebor's kingdom was as unstable as its rock.

Kili bit back an angry comment, recognizing the insult as politically motivated. His sympathy swelled for his brother Fili, cooped up in negotiations with these fools…

"To Mordor's hell with that damn bloody idiot," Old Dwalin muttered low enough that only Kili could hear. "He can _caragu sigim rukhas..._ " He narrowed his eyes.

"Dwalin, stop it," Kili said quietly, suppressing a laugh. "You're channeling Uncle Thorin again. They'll hear you." Kili fought to keep from smiling.

The grumpy old dwarf just growled.

"I'll send out extra patrols," Kili soothed. "Just don't…"

"Lord Kili!" Someone called in a high-pitched, panicked voice.

Kili was instantly on alert.

"Ambush. Orcs outside Dale." It was one of the young pages, out of breath.

The merchants predictably erupted in alarm. Kili broke into a run, heading for the armory at the Main Gate. He met Fili, already there, helping to pass out weapons. The King thrust a bow into Kili's hand and glared—not only at the mention of orcs, Kili knew, but at the timing. It was not what they wanted while hosting such a crowd of visiting dignitaries.

And then someone among the troops beyond caught his eye. The short form of a young dwarf prince disguised beneath an oversized helm. Kili shouted for a halt, stopping the line of soldiers streaming out in defense. He pulled young Fjalar out of the ranks, thrusting him toward his father before signaling that the troops should continue.

"By Mahal," Fili swore at his under-aged son, gripping the lad's arm.

"Both of you," Kili glared. "Up to the guard tower. We need someone there who can speak with ravens." He jerked his head toward Ravenhill.

Trusting that his brother would behave and stay put as long as he had his young son to protect, Kili grabbed an extra quiver of arrows and sped to the gates. Skirfir met him there with saddled mounts, and within minutes they were riding out on light-armored short horses, a speedy Rohan fighting breed recently sent as gifts from Edoras.

Kili led a group of twenty mounted dwarves and came upon the ambush quickly, finding an overturned carriage beside a group of panicked ladies. He directed five of his soldiers to see to the wounded, and with the rest, fanned out around the wreckage, ready for a fight but not finding one.

After three circuits of the immediate area, Kili slowed the short horse and dismounted, sword drawn and eyes scanning the ground for signs of the fight. "What did they take?" He shouted. "What was their purpose?"

But he did not find what he expected—no spent arrows, no thrown knives…no dead or wounded orcs.

He looked back at the frightened ladies huddled outside the overturned carriage, one was gasping in a breathless panic that didn't quite ring true, three were in tears. Their hair might have been a bit mussed, but there were no torn dresses, no defensive wounds, not even a scraped hand or knee. Nothing supported the idea that they had been thrown from a racing carriage.

Then he looked at their horses. Unhitched, not lathered, with no sign of broken tackle. They stood calmly with two very young grooms who were pointedly avoiding everyone's eyes.

Skirfir circled his horse and caught Kili's eye. The lad clearly had a hundred questions in his mind.

"Speak," Kili commanded.

"My lord, there's nothing. The carriage is overturned, but no sign of orcs." The younger dwarf looked confused, eyes wide.

"Very good, Skirfir. We're meant to believe there was an attack, but you're correct. There's no evidence of any kind of fight at all." Kili raised a hand and looked at the sky. A moment later a glossy Raven landed on his fist and bobbed, voicing a drawn-out, deep quork.

"What do the ravens say, my friend?" He asked quietly. "Are there orcs about?"

The raven cocked its head and pinned Kili with one shiny black eye. "None, O Raven Prince. Only treachery…treachery by your kind." The raven flapped his wings in anger.

"All right, yes," Kili said, trying to calm it a moment. "My thanks. I am ever at your service." The raven settled but still fluffed in anger at such a development. "One more thing, my good friend," Kili said. "A message to Ravenhill, if you would. Report to the King. Overturn accident. No ambush. All clear."

The raven launched itself into the sky and made straight for the watch tower.

"I don't understand," young Skirfir said, not being able to hear Ravenspeak.

Kili clenched his jaw. "The raven names this treachery." He glared in the direction of the ladies, still fussing at the soldiers who were trying to offer assistance. "Despite all the goodwill at last night's feast," he said. "The negotiations are predictably contentious. My guess is this incident is meant to create fear where there is no reason for it and make for disruptions in the talks."

Skirfir looked shocked.

"Politics," Kili said, sheathing his sword with more force than needed. "Good thing Fili's the diplomat. I would find who's behind this and run them through."

"And I would help you do it," Skirfir said. The lad glowered.

Kili grinned, then became serious again. "The question to ask is: whose idea was this?"

Skirfir inclined his head toward the crying ladies near the overturned carriage. "I say we start with them."

"Good lad," Kili said. He issued a quick order for two of the mounted guard to intercept the approaching foot soldiers and have them stand down. When he turned back to Skirfir, he clapped the young lieutenant on the shoulder. "I'll work on the ladies—you try the grooms."

But questioning resulted in little usable information. What Skirfir got were terse, short, unwilling responses. Kili got nothing more than tears, claims of injury, and complaints about lax security—which challenged Kili to hold his tongue and keep his temper. They had no idea the extent of Erebor's security and claims that it was lacking turned his heart cold. Dwarves died to protect this mountain. Dwarves he knew.

And then one of them changed her tune. "But now _you've_ rescued us, Lord Kili." She clung to his sleeve like a cloying scent. "So gallant. Do you know," she leaned close as if to share an intimate secret. "I have sent family envoys to your brother." She batted eyelashes.

Kili stared. The lass...was announcing her _choice_ of him?

It was impossibility, Kili thought. His brother had declared a moratorium on marriage negotiations years ago.

"I've not heard," he deadpanned. The lady was not dissuaded.

"By your honor," she said in a raised voice, loud enough for others to hear. "I insist that it be _you_ to escort me back. I wouldn't feel safe," she emphasized, "with anyone else." With that, the lady went limp, forcing Kili to catch her. It created, he realized, the impression of an intimacy that did not truly exist.

"Mahal's axe," he swore. Feuds were started over less. "Where are the healers?" he called, trying hard for his compromising position to look like nothing more than a simple act of aid to the stricken.

Skirfir had the good taste to look affronted and Kili clearly felt that had their positions been reversed, young Skirfir would have let the lady fall flat in the dirt.

"On the way!" someone reported as a dozen armed soldiers on short horses rode up. Three had medics riding pillion. Kili was all too eager to transfer his fainted lass into the hands of an older dwarf with a physician's band on his sleeve.

"What did you find out?" he prompted Skirfir to report as they stepped back.

"The grooms say these are ladies in waiting with the delegation from the Grey Mountains," Skirfir said quietly. "The two over there," he gestured to a pair of weeping lasses, "Confirm it. This one," he indicated the fainted lady being tended to by the physician. "Is someone's daughter—one of the official observers. A Master Yngvli."

Kili glowered, not liking that association at all.

"In my opinion, everything else about this so-called attack is a lie." Skirfir's face was set.

Kili nodded. "I believe your assessment is correct," he said in a tight voice. Contention in the negotiations, unexplained rockfalls, and an unexpected bid for the hand of a prince... The Grey Mountains were after far more than disrupting an alliance with Gondor. They were trying to start a blood feud.

They want Erebor, Kili realized, nearly laughing at the hubris of it but knowing better than to ever underestimate an enemy. Mahal...they were not more than two years from the defeat of the dark lord and the seven families were at each other already. Sometimes, he growled to himself, dwarves were simply too hard-headed for their own good.

He surveyed the accident scene as he mulled this over. One of the captains had organized the work of righting the overturned carriage and called out the command to hoist.

And then three things happened at once: the carriage was righted, resulting in one soldier receiving a nasty cut on the hand which resulted in an impressive spray of blood before the injury was staunched. Three of the Grey Mountains ladies set to screeching in a chorus of indignation at one of the healers, the loudest being Kili's fainting friend, apparently not as unconscious as thought.

And a contingent from Dale appeared on the road ahead, riding well-armed, fast, and directly for them.

.

.

.

* * *

 **A/N** Thanks for reading! As always, I invite you to leave a note-all feedback welcome! Fan Fic readers are amazing and I appreciate all of you! Thanks!

If you did not know, this revise is being simultaneously posted in German, thanks to the talented Jessie152. I'd like to add a shout-out to her beta reader/grammar editor Tallboy-who I understand is both a tall as Thranduil and rooting for Kili to kiss that lassie's ear. ;P

And of course HUGE kudos to Jessie-she's really nudged me to the rewrite and is the most fabulous teamwork partner. Mind you, we manage this literally from opposite sides of the earth-she's in Germany, I'm in California. I'm so grateful for her partnership in this adventure!

Finally, if you've not seen it before, I have a Pinterest page to honor/showcase all the fabulous fan art that's inspired me. Just google Summer Alden Pinterest and you'll find it. There's a board for Durin's Day... (And no worries-Summer Alden is an alias...not my real name.) Scroll to the bottom of the board to see the art that sort of corresponds to the beginning of the story...

Mahal's Blessings!

Summer


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Kili gave the command to ride forward, motioning for Skirfir to remain on guard with the medics and ladies while he mounted his Rohirrim short horse and rode ahead. The highborn daughter of Yngvli seemed unaware of the possible danger, loudly insisting that the young archer be banned from her presence. Her father might be a merchant, she shouted, but her mother was Grey Hills royalty.

"Royalty, I tell you!" Her screech nearly echoed around them.

He felt a moment of sympathy for Skirfir, but only a moment. Bigger concerns were upon them.

"Arms at rest," he shouted to the dwarven soldiers who were with him, leading them ahead. "Unless you see an actual orc!"

They stopped in two columns at the top of a rise, waiting for the Dale men to approach.

To his relief, the oncoming men were slowing their horses to a walk and their weapons remained pointed at the sky. They halted several lengths away.

Kili unbuckled the flap on his fighting leathers, revealing his royal sigil in a show of faith with their ally.

A lone man dressed in battle gear rode forward, his bow on his back.

"Well met, Lord Kili, Prince of Erebor." The man held up one hand in a gesture of neutrality.

"Well met, young Bard, King of Dale." Kili returned the gesture. He couldn't quite get used to the lad, recently come to the throne when his father Brand perished in the Last Battle, but he liked the man. Not the same Bard as old Bard the Bowman, to whom they had come to love all those years ago, but his namesake. Bain's grandson. As tall as his great-grandfather and perhaps someday, more wise.

"We heard rumors on the wind," Bard stated. "Of orcs and ambush."

"As did we. Yet I arrive to find not but a single carriage, overturned." Kili rode forward until their horses stood nose-to-tail so they could talk in private. "And a raven tells me there are no orcs for miles, dead or alive," he said. "Which could not be true if there had been an actual ambush. Yet someone would have us believe this staged accident is the result of orcs attacking innocent highborn ladies."

Young Bard kept his expression blank.

"Your opponent is an amateur," he said. "Anyone who ever fought beside you on the field of war would never underestimate your battle sense."

"I thank you for your vote of confidence."

Bard's posture relaxed. "Would this have anything to do with the ongoing negotiations your Kingdom is hosting?"

Kili suppressed a wry smile. "We are meant to miss that point, I believe. Are the visitors causing problems in Dale? Some of our merchants and minor nobility have little experience outside Dwarven culture. I apologize if they overstep…"

Young King Bard held up a hand, smiling wryly. "You are a rare Dwarf, Lord Kili, to worry about relations with men. But no need to apologize. We are making out like bandits, as my grandfather would have said. If we have to cat-foot around a few fusspots…" He shrugged. "No real harm comes of it."

Kili nodded. Though he could imagine…dwarven visitors with gold burning holes in their pockets, all too eager to seek bargains in the legendary marketplaces of Dale, and all too prone to imagined insults and cheats.

"What's the sticking point in the negotiations?" Bard asked, obviously aware that the scene before them meant things couldn't be going well.

"Me, apparently." Kili looked over his shoulder at Master Yngvli's daughter, still play-acting her distress. This ruse to gain his attention was not only blatant, it was insulting. "I'm starting to worry about a claim against family honor, in fact." He tried to make a joke of it, but the thoughtful expression on his friend's face told him he wasn't successful.

"Be wary," Young Bard said in all seriousness. "In Dale, we have an old saying: _Mordor hath no fury like a woman scorned_." He looked pointedly at the fussing dwarf maid.

Kili nodded sagely. "Wise words, wise words."

"What are you going to do?"

Kili kept his expression very still. "Tread carefully."

The man snorted, then sat up when someone else caught his eye. "Is that Nÿr?"

"Is that…?" Kili followed the man's gaze to the group of healers tending to the dwarf soldier lad with the cut hand. He recognized her then, the healer trainee in blue.

"She worked with the healers in Dale at one time," Bard said. "Before the war."

"Ex…excuse me?" Kili asked, turning back to his friend, eyes wide.

"Someone's foster-daughter. Everyone's sweetheart when she was a child. There's a rumor, you know, about some involvement with a Man who tried to make off with her. Swords were involved...a drunkard was killed."

Kili stared at his friend. _Some involvement with a Man...?_

Bard didn't seem to notice. "I was just a youngster," he shrugged. "I'm sure I never heard the whole story. The matter was hushed up."

Kili blinked. "Not surprising." Men were narrow-minded about such things. Dwarves were fiercely protective of love, but they accepted it in many forms...wherever they found it. Between each other, anyway. But a dwarf maiden and a _man?_

Bard kept chattering. "In any case, glad to see she's getting on so well."

Kili raised an eyebrow. "Yes. She was with our trainees who just returned from Ered Luin."

King Bard raised a hand to his troops and winked at Kili. "Do me a favor? Give her my best," he said. Placing his hand over his heart, he inclined his head. "At your service, my friend." He smiled.

Kili returned the gesture, "At yours and your family's," he replied, hoping he successfully hid the unaccountable shock he was feeling.

As the contingent from Dale turned and cantered back toward home, Kili motioned for the dwarf soldiers with him to return to the accident. He put the senior Captain in charge of mopping up and rode a little apart from the action, hoping he appeared watchful rather than unsettled. He slipped his right foot from the stirrup as he sat, absently stretching the muscles and rubbing the scar of the old injury. He tried to ignore the discomfort, but the excitement had aggravated it.

He watched as the carriage was deemed sound enough for use, having, as Kili suspected, sustained little damage in the staged rollover.

He heard Yngvli's daughter complaining long and loud once again, but he stayed well away, trusting the Captain and Skirfir to handle her. In truth, she was getting a far larger escort than she'd asked for and he felt little reason to encourage her with personal attention.

But on the ride back his thoughts were despairing. The healer maiden…and rumored involvement with a Dale man. And then this worthless highborn lady…had she really sent a petition to his brother?

Part of him howled in denial, but another part of him just felt deflated. His brother would have recognized the beginnings of the deep depression that always came with his curse, but Kili couldn't see it himself. Feeling like he'd been gutted, his thoughts swirled illogically. What did it matter who Chose him in marriage? Despite Fili's efforts to place him off-limits, he'd always felt this day would come…that someday they would all be backed into a corner and he would be expected to step up and make a loveless political marriage.

But he didn't want to.

He closed his eyes. Mahal, he didn't want to.

He was not surprised, then, when back at Erebor her father met the incoming carriage in a fit of rage, demanding Lord Kili's accountability.

Sighing, he dismounted and handed his horse's reins to a waiting groom. He walked slowly toward Yngvli, knowing full well how the next hour of his time would play out.

* * *

 ****A/N:** Thanks for reading the revised chapter! Just some subtle changes this time...the most significant is that in the original we had our healer lass actually living with a man...and we've changed that story a bit to "a man tried to make off with her." Some expansion on that will play out over the rest of the story-and you'll get more details in Chapter 8 (oh yes, THAT chapter.) Rest assured, the part you may have liked best about Chapter 8 has been expanded and enhanced a bit already-but remains true to the original-so I hope we meet your fluffy and dramatic expectations there. ;P

Huge thanks to Jessie152 for the revision consults and translation into German, and to Tallboy, our German language beta/editor!

As always, drop a note or PM and say hi-all feedback welcome!

Mahal's Blessings-Summer


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Kili finally returned to his own quarters well into the evening. He didn't notice that he was limping, but he did feel the sharp pain in his right thigh, just above the knee. In fact, he wasn't feeling well at all.

He poured a glass of plain water from the bedside table, drinking it dry. By Mahal, what did he expect? No one would feel well after even ten minutes with that ass Yngvli. But for the sake of his brother's negotiations, he was expected to bear up, and he would.

He had met with Fili and An only briefly—getting a quick summary of the day's Court events as Fili prepared for an afternoon audience with trade representatives of the Iron Hills. Despite the day's disruption, Fili reported that the negotiations were complete except the Grey Mountains contingent was refusing to vote. Without all kingdoms ready to do so, King Elessar's treaty would remain unratified. They'd adjourned with agreement to try the vote again tomorrow.

But it was clear that the Grey Mountains dwarves were holding out for approval of Yngvli's daughter's petition—a document that Erebor's King hadn't even seen yet—and wouldn't touch if he did.

Fili's frustration was palpable, and even Lady An's nerves were on edge as she saw to her Lord Husband's afternoon dress.

"The lass can petition all she wants," Fili fumed at Kili while An checked the fall of the King's newest cloak. "We will accept nothing."

"I agree," An looked grim as she stepped back. She glanced at Kili as if thinking to say more.

"Can you get this button, love?" Fili asked her, holding out his arm and heading off what they all knew she was about to say. _For Mahal's sake...find a lass you can live with and put an end to the fussing._ An fixed the loose cuff and made a quick, final adjustment of his left sleeve.

"Have the ravens been acting funny to you?" Fili asked, changing the subject.

"Funnier than usual?" Kili made a face. The birds were essential allies but they were also known for being greedy pests.

"Hen-hen. Had three or four of them muttering that to me today."

"Hen-hen?" Kili stared. "That might make sense if it was mating season," he arched an eyebrow.

Fili just pinned him with a steady eye and huffed. "Do me a favor and keep an ear for it—see if you can draw them out."

Kili nodded. "Sure. I'll let you know." He and Fili looked at each other soberly for a moment, and then Fili was done with wardrobe nonsense and with a quick kiss on his Lady Wife's cheek, was out the door.

Kili rubbed his forehead. The whole situation was making his head ache.

Then again, maybe it was just the weather, he told himself. A storm was brewing outside the mountain this evening. Ice storm, most likely.

And yet he was expected again at the revelries in the King's Hall tonight. He knew it—strained though they might be. Tonight was Durin's Day Eve, after all. There would be songs, and there would be stories. Old Dwalin, Gloin, and Dori would be guests of honor, regaling all with re-tellings of that evening 80-odd years ago when a Hobbit helped his Uncle unlock a hidden door and rout a dragon.

He and Fili, of course, hadn't been there. Hell, he didn't even clearly recall the day.

 _Except the Dragon._ He remembered that, by Mahal.

And the aftermath. He stared at his little fire, so benign…so unlike the conflagration that had destroyed old Laketown.

Yes, he would join the party, raise his glass with his friends, mourn their uncle...and privately, Kili would also mourn his friend the Elf Maiden.

But maybe after a rest. His limbs felt like lead and the bed was inviting. Layers of soft blankets. Pillows stuffed with fine goose down. And here was his little fire, burning gently.

He had nearly decided on a nap when a soft noise near the passage to the family quarters caught his ear. A very small face surrounded by soft, golden curls peered around the door, eyes wide.

" _My Kee?_ "

He smiled at his niece's version of "Uncle Kili" as she tiptoed into the room, trailing the ties on her dressing gown.

"Hey, sweetheart," he murmured. "Mama and Da off to the party?"

She nodded.

He limped to his fireplace and eased himself into his favorite chair, opening a hand to her in invitation to climb into his lap. It was a familiar uncle-niece tradition.

But Iri stood still as she considered the way he'd favored his right leg. "Are you hurt?" she asked, eyes wide in concern.

"Nah," he said, shrugging off his discomfort. "Just an old injury. Acts up every now and then."

Iri frowned at him, then turned and ran back to her family's rooms. Kili watched her go, smiling in puzzlement, absently rubbing his leg and hoping the warmth of the small fire would ease the muscles.

She was back moments later, carrying something carefully in one hand. This time she did scramble into her uncle's lap and he caught her up, pulling her past the aching leg and settling her on the cushioned arm of the chair.

In her hand lay a folded, damp cloth, and suppressing a smile, he watched her very seriously pat it several times before reaching up to press it against his forehead.

"Do you think I hit my head?" he asked, amused by her focus on the task.

She nodded. "And you have a fever."

"Do I?"

She nodded again, switching hands. "You have shiny eyes. Mama says that's a gibba-way."

"A giveaway?"

"I will call my nurse. She will make it better." Iri started to slide off of the chair, but Kili grabbed her hand, holding her in place.

"No," he said, too quickly.

Iri stared.

"No, sweetheart," he softened his voice. "I thought you were the nurse. I don't really need another one." He smiled as if this were nothing more than one of their pretending games, like having cakes and ale.

"Tomorrow," she announced, "you can teach me more arrows." She pressed the cloth to his head again.

Kili smiled. She was fascinated with archery and quite good at it for a child. Better than her brothers, actually.

"I would love to," he said. "But it's a holiday. You and I will both have other things we have to do."

She removed the damp cloth again, looked at it in her hand as if contemplating something serious, then looked at him with a smile as if she'd decided he should now be completely cured.

"Thank you," he said. "I feel better."

From deep within the family chambers Kili could hear the Nannies calling for their young charge.

He looked at his little niece and made a grimace as if he were scared of the nannies. "You better go," he whispered. "Before we're both in trouble."

She giggled, then scrambled from the chair and dashed back to the nursery, shouting "Here I am!" to announce her presence.

Kili laughed to himself and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He loved the little rascal and wondered what it would be like, years and years from now, when he supported his brother in a petition for some lad's hand. _Forget that,_ he dashed the thought. _There's not a dwarf out there who will be good enough._

And then he snorted. As if what the lads wanted really meant anything. It was all bluster, really. The actual power in a marriage petition lay with the Lady. Tradition held that a marriage was only sanctioned by the Lady's Choice. His job, he knew, would be to support Iri's Choice, when she made it, whether he liked the lad or no.

And refusing a lass was a serious matter-serious enough to lead to swords, axes, and duels.

That reminder made him open his eyes. Yngvli's daughter, stalled negotiations, and the prospect of a blood feud.

Yet he could not force his brain to think any further on it, try as he might...he sat glowering at the fire, absently rubbing one finger across an old scar on his forehead—until a clamor in the outer hallway told him he was needed. He pushed himself up to find a small squadron of the Guard at his door.

"Rockfall," the Captain said. "Western terrace. Your cadet Skirfir…a few others…injured and cut off from the gate."

 _Skirf…?_

Kili swore luridly in Khuzdul. The archer lad was his lieutenant, sure. But he was also Kili's fosterling of a sort—an undertaking of honor to guide the son of a fallen warrior until he came of age, and that made Skirfir more like a young cousin than just another trainee.

So Kili didn't think twice—just grabbed his snow jacket and forced his aching leg into action.

.

.

.

* * *

 ****A/N:** Thanks for following the updated chapters in this story! Hand on heart to all of you!

As always, thanks to **Jessie152** for her beta-eye and fab translation skills (if you did not know, she is translating the revised chapters into German and posting the story as a collaboration project.) Also credit to **Tallboy** -who edits/proofs the translated work. I have to say, there's nothing like working through a translation to learn more about one's own writing! Even if you don't read German, I invite you over to the translation and maybe consider a like or follow-that helps attract more German readers.

A note about "that scene" coming up in two more chapters: with extra beta-reading from **Nenithiel** , we've worked on it quite a lot and I hope you will all find it a bit expanded and a bit more intense. ;-D

(Just in case you need a teaser to stay tuned...)

Mahal's Blessings!

Summer (and Jessie!)


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Kili strode purposefully onto the western terrace, taking the snow cloak and heavy gloves that someone thrust at him. Outside it was close to midnight and the storm had rolled in heavier than expected.

"Down there," the guard commander shouted, pointing toward the accident site. Kili stepped to the edge and looked while pulling on the extra cloak and gloves. Watch lanterns pointed at a flat area about two long-rope lengths below, and the switchback trail down had been obliterated by a slide full of both slag and boulders. Kili motioned for a watch lantern to be pointed uphill, and he got a look at the likely origin of the rockfall. Something wasn't right. That was not the kind of stone or outcropping that should have failed—especially not in that manner.

"Five wounded." The commander gestured toward the small lifting crane that had already pulled up three of the injured. "Head wounds, three are unconscious," he added, then lowered his voice. "One very serious."

Kili looked at the triage area: three injured guards, healers busy readying them for transport down to the infirmary. None of the wounded were Skirfir, though he did recognize their faces. Good warriors, all of them. Veterans. If this was intentional, as he now suspected it was, the act was criminal. If even one of these dwarves died of his wounds, he would have every right to exact justice with his sword.

Kili's brows lowered and his jaw clenched. In fact he would do it this very instant, were the culprits brought forth.

"And the two below?" His voice was tight.

"Broken bones. Not as serious at these. We're bringing them up now."

Kili looked at the crew with the lifting crane. They were nearly ready to send the rescue basket back down.

He raised a hand and walked forward, calling to them. "Give me a ride," he shouted, reaching for the chain and stepping onto the lifting basket's footholds.

He didn't see the crane workers glance at the guard commander in alarm, nor did he see the commander shrug. Their prince was well known to be a bit reckless, but they all secretly admired it about him.

"Just be careful!" the commander called out, as much to the workers as to his prince. "The wind's gusty and getting worse!"

Kili looked down. They had one watch lantern at the landing spot below, and one of the rescue crew below stood at the ready with a guide line to keep the basket steady in the wind. After a quick warning jerk on the chain, the rig descended rapidly with Kili on board.

Once on the ground, he helped carry the next wounded guard to the basket, an older dwarf with a crushed leg and broken arm. The fellow had already been given a powerful dose of pain killer and looked more like he'd just survived a drunken tavern brawl than an avalanche.

"Be careful laddie," he said to Kili when he recognized his prince. "I don't know what kind of ale they're servin', but it packs a powerful punch."

"Does it?" Kili smiled at the oldtimer while two healers settled him into the lifting basket. "Let's raise a glass of it then, next time I see you. We'll judge how strong the stuff is together."

He met the senior healer's eye, wondering if the injured guard would be all right, but the fellow's expression looked grave. Kili knew that meant the oldster's odds of losing his leg were fifty-fifty at best.

The fellow turned to his partner. "Are you all right if I ride up?" he asked.

Kili saw the second one nod in agreement. "Go," she said. "I'll finish and pack." It was a lassie's voice. Kili looked up to discover it was Nÿr, her braid covered by a blue hood.

"You're certainly everywhere today," he said to her in a level voice. Just this morning he would have been delighted to be crossing paths with her again. Now he didn't know what to think. He shoved his mixed feelings aside, focusing on the more urgent matter at hand.

"It's just my duty schedule," she answered, testing the buckles on the safety straps. "Luck of the draw for the holiday shift." She tugged on one last strap and stood back.

The senior healer stepped into the footholds and signaled readiness. Kili took the safety line and let it play out as the basket whisked upwards. He felt it bump to halt at the top, barely able to see the crane swinging the basket to safety. The snow was really coming down now, he realized.

Knowing that time was of the essence, he turned to the last wounded dwarf, Skirfir. The young archer was the least hurt but looked the most worried.

"Tell me what happened, lad," Kili said as he bent to lend a shoulder to the younger dwarf and help him up while Nÿr guided the empty carrier back to the ground.

"My Lord, these rockfalls are not happenstance," Skirfir looked at his prince with anger in his eyes as Kili got him to the basket. "Someone is setting them with some kind of blast powder. I saw them, just before the slide. Three of them, dwarves none of us recognized, dressed in grey and black. Up there," he jerked his head toward the area Kili had been looking at earlier. "They were dropping sacks. Red powder of some kind. We shouted and were headed up…"

Kili's eyes narrowed at the mention of _red_ powder. "Three dwarves? No more?"

"Ask the Ravens. There was a small flock here raising a ruckus like no one's business. One tried to talk to me." Skirfir's head fell back, his frustration clear. "But I just can't understand them. I'm sorry…"

Kili scanned the slope above them. Any self-respecting bird had roosted at sunset and was now hunkered down out of the wind. He wouldn't be able to ravenspeak until at least morning. He put a hand on the injured lad's shoulder. "Good lad, Skirf," he said, and then bent close to speak quietly. "Who else have you told about this?"

"No one."

Kili squeezed the lad's arm. "Good lad. You've done well. But this is for King's ears only, do you understand me?"

Skirfir stared a moment, then nodded.

"We'll tell him together once you get patched up."

Skirfir nodded again as Nÿr stepped around the basket.

"Cross your arms like this and grip the straps," she said to the lad, demonstrating on herself, hands on opposite shoulders. "And hold tight."

Skirfir obeyed, blinking snow out of his eyes. He looked uncertain, but his expression was bravely stoic.

"Did I just hear a young lass asking you to hold tight?" Kili winked at the younger dwarf, trying to lessen the lad's worry with a bit of humor. It worked. He noticed the corner of Skirfir's mouth twitch up and the young archer looked appropriately scandalized. Kili suppressed a grin.

And then the strongest gust yet buffeted them with an icy blast and Kili leaned over the lad to protect him. Above them, the lift's chain swayed wildly and beside him, Nÿr met his gaze when the gust subsided. The snow was coming down faster and heavier.

"You go up," he said, indicating that she should ride the basket up with Skirfir.

"Too gusty," Nÿr shook her head. "Send him up alone—it will be safer for him. We can ride locked-arm afterward."

Kili nodded. She knew her stuff, the lass did. That was indeed the safest way in gusty conditions. He nodded and patted Skirfir one last time on the shoulder for reassurance.

He double checked the chain and snap-hook, and then the safety line. The wind gusted wickedly again and he rocked back, ignoring the sharpening pain in his right leg but shifting his weight off it just the same.

"Your ride might be bumpy," he shouted to Skirfir over the storm. He eyed the ropes, unable to see the cliff or the lights above now. "Let's hope the lads up there pull hard and fast. The sooner you're up, the easier it will be."

Kili nodded to Nÿr to stand away and he grabbed the chain, yanked twice, and quickly stepped back, his gloved hands on the safety line. The basket jerked and lifted just a little, the warning signal to clear for lift, and then shot upwards, out of sight. Kili let the safety line play out but held it taught, hoping it kept the basket from dashing against the rocks in the wind.

The line was nearly played out when it went weightless. He and Nÿr both stood, looking up into nothing but swirling snow as the line went lax, then came snaking back to the ground with a frayed end.

They looked at each other in shock.

Nÿr bent and lifted the sliced end. "What just happened?" she asked.

Kili looked wide-eyed at the rope in her hand, then at the swirling snow above them. _"Skirfir!"_ he shouted, barely holding back a surge of panic.

Of course, no one could hear above the wind. He strained to see—had Skirf fallen?

Several long moments passed. The wind gusted, quieted, then gusted again with enough force to drive him against the healer lass and push both of them two steps to the side.

Then he saw it…a plump, round object too small to be a dwarf, falling straight for them. He grabbed Nÿr's arm and pulled her aside just in time for a bundle to hit the snowy ground with a whump.

"What does this mean?" she shouted in the wind.

"This," Kili called back, striding forward to retrieve the emergency pack and quickly interpreting a rune-code scrawled on its canvas. "Means that Skirf made it, but there won't be any more rescue lifts tonight." He braced himself against the gusting snow and went back to her, holding out a hand. She looked at it, eyes wide.

"Come on," he shouted. "We need to find shelter!"

* * *

"Say that to me again?" King Fili walked forward, his expression so intense that the guard commander stepped back. It was his unpleasant duty to knock on the door of the King's private chamber bearing unhappy news on tonight, of all nights…Durin's Day Eve.

"The winds are gusting too strongly. They barely got the last lad up."

"And my brother is still out there?"

The commander swallowed. "We sent an emergency pack down. And he's not alone. One of the rescue team is with him as well. Surely they will make a snow cave and wait out the storm."

"Who's with him?"

"One of the healer lassies."

"A lass?" Fili said flatly, keeping his expression still and steely, but one eyebrow twitched.

"Nÿr, sir. Healer apprentice. One of the best…" The guard stopped, unsure of his King's reaction. The King and his brother were famously close and fiercely protective of each other.

But Fili snorted. "Marooned in a snow cave with a lassie," he said with a hint of a smile. "Could be highly dangerous in a number of interesting ways."

But the guard didn't laugh. "One more thing, sir. The last lad that they brought up…"

Fili frowned. "How is he?"

"Badly broken leg. In the infirmary now. Says he has a message for you."

Fili stared.

"For you alone."

"Now that," Fili grabbed his overcoat and slipped it on. "Sounds like something I want to hear," he said, heading for the door and cinching his leather belt tight.

.

.

.

* * *

 **A/N: THANK YOU** for reading and if you're a new follower, welcome aboard! Please drop a note in the reviews or PM me...any and all feedback welcome. Two things: 1) the rather juicy next chapter (Ch 8) has been revised a bit to bring in a little _more_ detail and is mid-translation into German even as I post this one: yay and high fives to the intrepid **Jessie152** and Deutsche proofreader **Tallboy**!...and I'm hoping you'll approve the new extra bits, lol.

I'm also off to see the BOTFA ee tonight O.O I have mixed feelings about that...but I need to see it for myself (rather than see all the disjointed chatter on tumblr, lol.) I won't spoil anything here, but if you want to PM about it, just shoot me a message.

Finally, my plans are all set to trek off to Hobbitcon4 in March/April! OMG... If you're going and want to chat, PM me!

Mahal's Blessings - Summer (and Jessie152!)


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** this chapter rated M for Mature relationship content

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

Luckily for Kili and Nÿr, they discovered an old guard house carved into the rock only a short way down the trail from the slide. They left a series of stones pointing to their shelter, then Kili ushered her inside. The foyer lacked a door, but the tiny, vacant inner room was at least out of the wind.

They did find a metal box of signal torches in the foyer, not too old, and Kili lit one with his flint.

Together, they got a good look at the inner room. It was relatively clean and dry but for a little dust and debris and few odd stacked stones that might make a fire ring.

It would be remarkably cold, however, and they didn't see any wood.

"I wonder if there's a hidden door," Kili said, holding up the torch and reaching out to test the stone walls. "Maybe there's a way in." He wanted to check on Skirfir, then report to his brother and have a chance at the saboteur in their midst before sunrise.

Nÿr pulled off one glove and let her fingertips trail along the stone. "No seams," she said. And neither of them found the kind of decorative ornament that often hid a latch.

"Just plain, solid walls," Kili said. "I guess we're stuck here," disheartened his shoulders sagged. Any hope of getting the jump on his quarry now stalled while the storm raged on. "Hope Skirf made it all right."

Nÿr looked sympathetic. "I'm sure they got him inside to the infirmary. His leg will mend—the break was clean. He's in better shape than the others."

Kili nodded. "Thank you for helping them," he said quietly, putting the torch in a metal wall bracket.

She bowed her head once in return.

"You know, I'd noticed you long before we were introduced at the party…" he said, starting to unpack the emergency bundle. "I…" He stopped and smiled in hopes of putting her at ease. He looked up to see her blush slightly, then ducked his head.

He pulled a pack of dried fruit and meat from the emergency bundle and handed it to her, covering his embarrassment. She looked at him, eyes wide.

"Let's just unpack this and see what we have…" he changed the subject. Thankfully, they got past the awkward moment by going through the pack together, finding padded blankets, a small kettle, several small metal cups, and a sturdy sack full of treated wood—the kind steeped in long-burning oils.

"My Lord—are you limping?" Nÿr asked, suddenly very concerned when she saw him favoring his right leg as he took the wood to a clear area and laid it down.

"It's nothing." Kili tried to smile as he unbuckled his sword and set the weapon within reach before bending to light the fire. "Old injury. Acts up in the cold sometimes."

She looked skeptical. "I have my aid kit," she said, pointing to the leather satchel she'd brought with her. "Let me know if you need something..."

"Thanks," Kili said. But he looked away. He was pretty sure that nothing in her kit would help him. Phantom injury is what old Oin had called it, once it had become clear that the effects of the Morgul poison would revisit him every year. Some years the scars merely ached. Other years it laid him flat with a full relapse of fever and searing pain...and torturous nightmares full of a dark presence that taunted and tormented.

He tried not to think about it. He tried to tell himself that with the dark lord gone from Mordor, the wound had lost its power, that a little soreness would be all he was due.

 _It's over_ , he told himself. _Over and done._

And he tried not to recall those last few years before the One ring was destroyed. As the dark lord had gained in strength, so had the power of the wound. It had kept him unwell and close to Erebor when other dwarves—dwarves like his cousin Gimli—were free to travel Middle Earth and join the fray.

His thoughts broke when Nÿr took the kettle and went out to fill it with snow. Kili shook off his worry and busied himself with positioning a flat stone in the fire for the kettle sit on.

Then, as dwarves generally did in survival situations, they wrapped the padded blankets around themselves and sat close to use each other's body heat.

They munched on the dried rations and listened to the storm howling.

"You realize we'll never hear the end of this," Kili commented, slowly chewing a handful of dried fruit. "Lad and lassie, sheltering overnight in the snow. Funny excuse for missing all the parties inside." He said it to try and lighten their mood.

Nÿr didn't answer or meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't joke," he said. "You must have a husband who's worried?"

"No. You?"

Kili laughed. "Just my brother."

She smiled. "There are lots of stories about you two, you know."

Kili grinned. "How do you know they aren't true?" he teased.

She grinned back and pulled her blanket tighter. "Oh, not my business, My Lord."

"Kili," he said. "Since it's just the two of us, I really don't think the title is necessary. It's just for show, you know. People like to use it, so I let them. But really, I'm just a kid from Ered Luin."

"From Khelethur?" she said, naming the main settlement a little wistfully. "I just spent five years there. It's a beautiful place."

"It's where I grew up," Kili said. And while the fire burned brightly, the two of them compared notes about the Blue Mountains settlement, enjoying easy conversation until Nÿr yawned.

"It's been a pretty long day," Kili observed. "We should try to sleep." He looked toward the outside where the storm raged on. Snow swirled into the open, front foyer, mixed with ice.

"I vote we forego setting watches. I've no idea who'd be out in weather like this."

She agreed, and putting their backs to each other for support, they let themselves drift off to sleep, blankets up to their chins.

Sometime later Kili woke, aware of a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and a dull, steady ache in his leg. He repositioned it. Next to him, Nÿr shivered.

"Hey," he nudged her. "You're too cold if you're shivering." His voice was deep and quiet not only with concern.

She sleepily rubbed her face as he leaned forward and stirred the little fire. It flared to life, but without more fuel, he knew it would not burn much hotter.

"Come on," he said, opening his arms to her as she shifted position. He wrapped himself around her, tucking her against his chest so she could sit enveloped in his warmth.

She said nothing, but after a few minutes stopped shivering.

"Better?"

"Thank you," she said in a small voice.

Kili felt almost too hot, now.

"You don't have to do this," she said.

"Keep you warm?"

"You don't understand. I'm not really someone a prince should be associating with."

"Why not?"

"I've…inappropriately crossed a few lines..."

Kili frowned. "So? I cross lines as much as I can…" He started to laugh softly, then realized she was serious. "I'm sorry," he said, guessing her problem. "Inappropriate how? Tell me," he urged gently.

"I…can't. I'm sorry."

"So am I." He said nothing more for a moment. How was he going to forge a friendship with her if she refused to share? He looked up to see the back of her head and the weave of her long single braid, raven black and sleek. The tied-off tail-end lay near his hand and impulsively he threaded it gently between two fingers...silky and soft.

Then he decided to gamble. "How about this. I'll tell you about the biggest line I've crossed, and then if you think you can top it, you can tell me yours."

She looked dubious. He charged ahead.

"Once, on the journey here to Erebor—before the Dragon slaying—we were captured by the Mirkwood Elves."

"I've heard the story." She nodded.

"Yeah, well here's the part I'm guessing you haven't heard. I fell ridiculously in love."

"Love?"

"With an Elf."

Her eyebrows shot up. "An elf maid?"

He smiled. "Warrior. Yes. Her name was Tauriel, a sylvan elf. Hair like fire. Fought like no one I'd ever seen before...knives, bow, arrows…all at the same time." He shook his head, recalling her skill. "Saved me from a pack of spiders and that was it. I was smitten." He smiled at himself.

"Did your uncle know?" She barely whispered.

Kili shrugged. "Don't care. My brother knew, though. Tried to knock some sense into me, then just gave up, I think. He came around to tolerating her."

"Admiring an elf is not a crime."

"It…may have gone a little farther than that," he admitted.

She didn't flinch. Didn't look shocked. "What happened?"

"I kissed her…." He said it honestly, with frankness. "Well, more like she kissed me. I went with it. It just felt right at the time." He tried to hide a little embarrassment, then sobered. "And the next day...the dragon. She...she fell."

He heard her make a sad little _oh_. "I'm sorry," she said.

"It was a long time ago," he said, trying not to sound so morose. After a moment he looked up and forced a smile. "Your turn." He prompted, hoping she would choose to share.

She nodded, considered, then sat back a bit. "A man."

"A…man?" He tried to sound non-judgmental, as if he was hearing this for the first time.

"A Dale man. I grew up there with my foster mother…" She was quiet a moment, then went on. "And I met him. I enjoyed being his friend; I was fascinated with him in a way. He took me riding on those big courier horses…" She blinked, obviously she'd been in awe. Then she sobered. "But while I thought we were just friends, he thought more—or so he said." She frowned as if recalling something she didn't understand. "He wanted me to go away with him." She looked at Kili. "I wasn't of age...I tried to tell him…"

"How old were you?" Kili asked softly.

"Just in my sixties," she admitted.

Not much older than Fili's elder lad, Kili realized. Old enough to enter into an apprenticeship, but not old enough to be on her own. If she was a fosterling, she likely had no real kin to protect her, either.

"He cornered me one night at my foster-mother's pub. He insisted that we go...I refused him. He wasn't very nice after that...threatened rude things. I barely got away from him."

Kili just listened.

"But what came after was worse. He got back at me by spreading rumors...said I'd done things that I hadn't…" There. A small frown.

"No…" Kili moaned in sympathy, his hand touched hers.

"I was young. I thought it was my fault. But…" she shook her head. "People believed the rumors—dwarves and men alike. They said things. Even my friends slammed doors in my face." She huffed. "Not that I had so many." She covered her face with her hands, then dropped them and sighed. "The disapproval was too much. I couldn't stay."

Kili was silent. While her experience was certainly worse than his, in his heart he knew that would have been the way of things for him as well if Tauriel had lived and their love had run its course. No one would have approved. Backs would have been turned. Things would have been said. His uncle...Thorin would have…

He couldn't even think it. In the end, the chaos of the massive battle and his uncle's tragic death had overshadowed everything...and afterwards Fili had firmly declared the subject off-limits.

The elves, of course, had held a grudge for years. Tauriel had been a fosterling of a sort to King Thranduil himself.

"Where is he now?" Kili asked Nÿr. "The Dale man."

"Long dead. A skirmish in town not long after." She stared at the fire.

"I'm sorry all that happened," Kili murmured, and he meant it. He took her hand, realizing as he did it that his unsettled feelings about her had vanished. The two of them actually had something very real in common: affections given when they were young...choices made that could still bring pain.

She looked sad, and he brushed a lock of hair from her face and held her a little closer. "Just the other day my brother was reminding me to stop regretting the past and live in the here and now."

"Can you?"

"I promised I'd try." That unexplainable urge to kiss her ear was back.

"Have you forgotten her?"

"Yes and no. I'm older...I hope wiser. I have made my peace with it. You?"

"I'm not even that same person anymore." She shook her head. "But…when ladies try to match me with their sons and cousins, I just want to hide. If they ever found out, if those rumors ever came back...they would surely disapprove."

"But that's good." Kili smiled.

"Good?"

"For me. I don't disapprove. But then, I fell madly in love with an elf. Who am I to judge?"

She was silent.

"Does this bother you?" he asked.

She laughed softly. "No, it doesn't bother me. It shows you have an open heart." She squeezed his hand. She meant it.

"Do I?" He grinned. "If so, that was just about the only time it showed itself."

"Was there another?"

"Jô. Archer lass, back in the long years. She was lost in battle…" He stopped, unable to say more. He hadn't thought they'd been serious...until she was gone and he was alone. "What about you?"

She shifted to look at him. "Egil. One of the other trainees. He was sort of lost in battle too, you might say."

Kili's eyes went round.

She smiled shyly. "Not that kind. To another lass. She chose him, he agreed..." The little frown again, followed by a wistful glance. "They're off in the Iron Hills now. At least last I heard." She squeezed his hand. "It's been ten years since."

Kili smiled and looked at her hand, realizing that he no longer felt the cold or even the heaviness in his limbs.

"Do you know it's been a very long time since I had such easy conversation with a lass?" He smiled fondly at her.

Her eyes met his. She looked skeptical.

"Just having someone to sit with...well, sitting with _you_...it's nice. I like it." But then he felt awkward again and it made him feel suddenly hollow, suddenly so aware that she deserved more. Why did no one else see that she was so adorable...so devoted, yet so alone?

"Maybe we should both take Fili's advice," he murmured.

"How so?" Her voice was gentle.

"Stop regretting the past and live in the here and now…" They looked at each other as the winds gusted outside, and her skeptical look changed, as if she were considering.

Then he gambled one more time and captured her mouth in a kiss. Just a simple, soft, very tender kiss…

She said nothing for the longest moment and he wondered what she was thinking—this independent lass who had such a strong sense of duty.

 _Please_ , he thought, suddenly afraid that he'd maybe pushed too fast. _Don't turn away._ He bit his lip, steeling himself for her next words. He looked at her hand held in his and slowly interlaced their fingers. He liked her hand there, found himself hoping...then felt doubt hollowing his gut. He looked back at her, his eyes wide.

Then her other hand came up to cup his jaw, and she leaned in to kiss him back. He reveled in the light softness of her touch and nearly melted with it.

 _Yes_. And that was like opening a flood gate. Kisses led to hands on each other's faces and shoulders, which led to mouths on throats and shrugging out of coats…her hands unbuttoned his shirt, and her mouth on his collarbone made his brain stall.

They were awkward and clumsy (since they were new to each other) but it didn't stop them. He would have left off the moment she asked...but _Mahal_ , she wasn't asking.

She gasped at a gust of icy air that nearly dampened their little fire, and Kili felt it too—the shock of freezing cold bringing him slightly to his senses. Protective, he pulled the blanket around them.

"Nÿr…" he murmured. He looked at her in the softly flickering firelight, but he could hardly think. It was like being stuck at the bottom of a deep mine and seeing the only person who could pull him to the light.

She didn't answer, but her eyes—her beautiful, perfect eyes, softened and her hands traced their way up his shoulders and she shifted.

 _Mahal._ Her lips found his and they went further, slowly and shyly, until he was completely immersed in her scent, her warmth, her love...

It was the most intimate thing he'd ever felt, full of yearning and tenderness and _intensity_ … Clearly, it was not the first time for either of them, yet it was over all too soon. In the end, she gasped and clutched his arms while he caught his breath. In the afterglow, he kissed that spot just below her ear and tried to sort his surging desire to protect her _forever_ …and she breathed his name… _Kili..._ and cupped his face. He realized he wanted... _needed_ her approval…

"Could this not be good…?" he asked quietly, his voice husky and deep. It was the thing lads said to let a lady know he would welcome her Choice, should she wish to make it.

There was a long moment when their hands clasped tightly and they simply touched foreheads.

She closed her eyes and whispered, "Yes…"

He eased himself to lay close beside her, skin to skin, his open hand next to hers—there if she wanted it.

She did. She wrapped her fingers around his and rested her cheek against his palm, both of them knowing without saying it that they belonged to each other.

 _This is right_ , Kili felt it in his soul. _Mahal, this is right._

Slowly they dozed off, wrapped closely and half drunk with new-found accord, comfortable enough in each other's warmth.

Outside, the storm raged on, and inside Kili, the fever sparked, no matter how much he thought he could hold it at bay.

In the cold, very early morning, he lost the battle and woke, crying out in agony, his right leg cramped and burning, his head pounding.

Nÿr was instantly awake, her hands on his forehead, her eyes showing her alarm.

"Kili," she breathed, trying to calm him. She scrambled to strip the blankets away and look at the burning, angry scarring on his thigh, just above the knee. Her healer's eye had to be telling her this was not a normal wound.

"What do you need…?" she asked, clearly perplexed and half-panicked. "What can I do?"

But he couldn't say. He couldn't even think through the red haze of pain.

.

.

.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hope you enjoyed the Chapter 8 reboot :D It was certainly an enjoyable to write, lol! Drop a message or review and let me know what you think!

Extra thanks to Tallboy (who made suggestions in addition to the grammar edits in the German version!) I appreciate that he's rooting for Kili! And of course a huge shout-out to Jessie152. Go check out her AU story "A Gift for Kili" for some Kili-driven AU sweetness.

And...BOTFA EE viewing achieved! (PM if you want to chat about it...)

Finally, for those of you into music to go with your sexy Durins...the music I worked to for this chapter was Hozier, "Like Real People Do." Find it on YouTube to listen free.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Fili was almost out the door when a small voice made him turn.

His youngest, Iri, was out of bed and standing ten feet away, eyes full of unshed tears. "Da!"

"Iri, honey, I have to go. Where's your nanny?"

"No," she said, running toward him. He caught her up. "Da. _My Kee_ is sick. He has a fever. I saw!"

Fili looked into his little daughter's eyes, seeing his own dismay reflected in her worried expression as the silent tears spilled over. An was instantly there, arms out to take her errant child.

Their eyes met over the top of Iri's curls.

"Durin's Day," Fili said, cursing himself for letting court politics and intrigues drive from his mind the one bad thing that generally happened this time of year. "He told me he was fine."

An looked contrite. "You better go," she whispered, eyes wide.

Fili turned and stalked out, angry at himself. "Infirmary," he said to the Commander. The nervous dwarf followed.

"I don't understand," the Commander said, trotting to keep up with his King. "Should we have stopped your brother?"

"No," Fili sliced a hand through the air. "This is not the fault of the Guard. My brother has an old injury that acts up and he is well known for masking the problem." Fili walked on, fuming. "I'm irked at him, not the Guard." He left it at that.

But fact was, he was more irked at himself. He, of all people, knew just too well what kind of fever his brother was suffering from. A wound from a morgul shaft all those years ago, and it still had the power to lay Kili out flat when the anniversary rolled around. Not every year…but most.

And Fili knew that if the fever had already started a day ahead of schedule, the relapse would be worse than usual.

"Job for you," Fili said to the commander, rattling off a short list of names. "I want them in the King's Chamber in ten minutes."

The commander nodded.

"You'll have to round them up," Fili said.

The commander took off at a run.

Fili kept going and didn't even stop at the infirmary's security door. He burst into the ward without waiting for permission, shocking the on-duty healers, but he didn't apologize. Sometimes a King just needed to bypass all the niceties. Something was up in Erebor and he wasn't about to wait for clerks to consult with supervisors and call for the master physician.

"The last lad they brought in from the rockfall on the western terrace," he demanded.

A pair of startled nurses pointed to an alcove.

Fili inclined his head, hand on heart, and strode that direction, schooling himself to a calmer demeanor more respectful of the sick and wounded. There, resting on his back with a splinted leg propped up was the young archer, Skirfir.

"Skirf...?" Fili tended to treat Kili's protégé like a cousin. "Are you all right, lad?" he asked, pushing a privacy drape aside.

Skirfir saw his King and his eyes went wide. Impulsively, Fili laid a comforting hand on the young dwarf's arm as Skirfir made a brave attempt to sit up.

"No, no. Stay put," Fili said. "Can't have you messing up your bandages. I hear you have a message."

The lad nodded.

"Well, find your voice then and tell me."

* * *

Fili slipped out of the infirmary heading for the King's Chamber, a small room by Erebor standards used for his most private meetings. Fact was, he had heard more in the young archer's message than the lad knew—and that, added to a few other pieces of information he had...

A quick check with the physicians confirmed that indeed the most seriously wounded dwarf in the rockfall had not made it.

That meant murder with a side of treachery in the midst of hosting the most critical negotiations in years.

Part of him wanted to turn the mountain upside down in a fit of rage, but the more sensible part of him told him to do it with deadly calm.

And he wanted his brother brought back inside the mountain instead of left suffering out there in the cold with no one to defend him.

He would do it himself, in fact.

But not before he put a few other things in motion.

He burst into the King's Chamber to find five of his most trusted advisors hastily dressed and standing at the ready.

The only one missing was Kili.

"My Lord King." Old Dwalin inclined his head, using Fili's most formal title. The group was silent, at attention, and ready.

Fili laid out what he knew. A member of the guard dead, Kili's foster-lad injured, and Kili himself stranded in the fiercest ice storm in a decade.

Then he added Skirfir's very interesting observation about red powder on the hillside.

"Stonefoots," old Gloin muttered. "From the eastern Grey Mountains. There are verified accounts of them dealing too closely with Mordor in the years before the war." He looked around the room. "We all know that while the dark lord is vanquished, much of his evil remains. It will take years to sweep things clean," he stated.

Fili nodded. That was exactly why signing King Elessar's treaty was so critical.

"Yet the Stonefoots are one of the Seven Families," Fili pointed out. "We can't simply reduce the number to Six just because we don't like their trade partners. The Ironfists and the Blacklocks would revolt, for one thing." He shook his head and looked each councilor in the eye one by one as he spoke. "What I need is proof that the sabotage is connected to them, and whether the rot is in the entire contingent or just a few. If so, we will need to be surgical."

"I don't understand," Dwalin asked. "Do they not have a marriage petition in the Council, seeking an alliance with the House of Durin?"

Fili nodded. "I was stalling it best I could. Now I begin to see their plan."

"Plan?" Gloin narrowed his eyes.

"Think it through. It starts with a marriage to my brother...who is fourth in line to the throne of Erebor and first in line as Regent."

The councilors stared at him.

"I suspect his life would last as long as it took for him to father a male child—a Stonefoot-born heir who would be fifth in line to the throne of Erebor. Then we would no doubt find Kili dead in some plausible accident while they somehow contrive to kill me and all three of my under-age sons," he clenched his jaw. "Leaving them conveniently placed with a Durin-blooded heir to the throne, thereby making that child…"

Dwalin stood in a fit of anger. "King under the Mountain," he snarled.

Everyone in the room shifted in anger.

"Not if my Gimli claimed it first," Gloin stated, fist clenched. "Regardless whose right would take precedence, he would fight for Erebor to the end."

"He's befriended that elf," Dwalin grumbled, glancing sideways at Gloin. "Stonefoots'll want his blood for it."

Fili looked at his hands. "Dwalin's right. They'll be after Gimli as well."

The room was silent. Gloin's expression was both affronted and worried.

"But we are not sitting here ignoring the signs...and their plan, quite frankly, is crap. I want justice for our dead," Fili snarled, his expression like stone. "And I will protect my kin and kith with everything I have," he swore.

"As will we," Gloin growled.

Fili was silent a moment. "I am a son of Durin," he said, crossing his arms. "Durin's Day is upon us, and I am King in Erebor. We have more allies than they know."

Old Dwalin leaned on his staff like a wizard. "Ah," he said. "I understand you now."

And his old eyes twinkled with a wickedness Fili had not seen for years. The two nodded at each other, and then Fili quickly spelled out his tasks for the others.

"And you?" Dwalin asked his King, as gruff as Thorin ever was.

"I'm off to the western terrace for two things. My brother," he said. "And once this storm clears—a word with the ravens." He rested one hand on Dwalin's shoulder and lowered his voice. "I'm counting on you to have the Guard ready."

Dwalin nodded. "Call Bofur and Bombur out of the mine," he advised. "With their best crew. You'll need their skills to manage that rockface in a storm."

And Fili agreed.

.

.

.

* * *

 **A/N Huge thanks to you for reading!** As always, let me know if you're reading along and you're always welcome to drop a note! Apologies if I don't always reply to you individually, but your feedback is certainly always food for thought.

The fabulous **Jessie152** is my translation partner in this revise-she's simul-posting in German on ffic and just recently added the story to the German fan fiction site (Fanfiktion dot de) so you can find it there as well. German title is **Cursebearer - Die letzten Schatten Morguls** by author **summerundJessie.** Also check out her story **A Gift for Kili** by **Jessie152** here at ffic.

Special bonus tip: A second shout-out for good friend **Nenithiel** -who has joined the ranks of ffic writers by writing the backstory for Kili and Tauriel from Kili's conversation in THIS story! Wow! Check it out-title is " **Tempered by Loss: A companion piece to Summerald's Erebor 3022 stories** " Go look! Applause for Nen!


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

It took longer to get things rolling on the western terrace than Fili would have liked, but he couldn't fault how hard the mining crew worked at it.

Old Bofur and Bombur had brought their best engineers who took one look at the snowy slope and started sketching plans for an ore cart on an iron track powered by counter weight inside the mountain. The wind could gust all it wanted and the cart and track would remain steady. They would even assemble the track on runners inside and slide the whole apparatus out, somewhat like launching a raft. Fili approved and miners swarmed over the construction like busy ants.

Meanwhile, the storm raged on and the darkness of night turned to the dull gray of a stormy Durin's Day morning full of gusting wind and blowing snow. The wind would have to quiet before the ravens would be seen again, so Fili remained focused on task one: finding his brother.

Two hours later, Fili was all too eager to hop inside the mine cart and ride down the hillside, though he had conceded that two others should go first for safety. He forbade them to look for Kili, however, on the premise that they might disturb any tracking signs not entirely obliterated by the blowing snow.

"Might be a bit of a jolt at the bottom," Bofur said, tossing a heavy coil of rope over the lap of his King and friend. "But good luck."

Fili gripped the old miner's hand in thanks, then double checked the contents of the bag strapped to his side. Herbs, a miner's pan, rations, and clean rags. On the other side, a canvas bag with a half dozen fresh sticks of oil-soaked kindling.

He nodded to Bofur that he was ready.

With a clang, the brake released and the cart rolled heavily down the steep track, slowly picking up speed as it went, and indeed there was a jolt at the end which threw Fili a few inches forward as it jerked to a stop. Two burly dwarves helped him out at the bottom.

"Where to, my Lord?" one of them shouted. Fili handed him one end of the heavy rope to anchor firmly to the cart and raised a hand to say they should stay put.

Fili was a master at tracking—he'd been doing it all his life to find game, thieves, orcs, and of course, his little brother. It took only minutes for him to make his first circuit of the immediate area and discover the small rock cairn caked with snow.

This was Kili's marker—set the way he always did. Fili played out his safety rope and moved parallel to the mountainside until he found the second marker about ten steps away.

After that, it didn't take long for the stones to lead him straight to the old guard house.

"Kili!" he shouted, hoping he could be heard over the howling wind. He stomped his way through an open foyer, tying the end of his safety rope to a handrail. He would need that to guide him back to the cart.

Once inside, he could see an inner chamber lit by the dim orange light of embers and he pushed forward, pulling the snow hood off his face.

He did not expect to hear the ring of steel or see a half-undressed healer lass pointing his brother's sword at him.

But he admired her instinct.

"Hey," he said, holding up his hands. "I'm just here to help my brother."

The lassie's eyes went wide as she realized she had just drawn steel on her King.

But Fili didn't have time for apologies. There, twisting in the mussed blankets in front of a dying fire lay his very sick brother. One look and he could see Kili was in the throes of the poison, dangerously fevered and shivering in unspeakable pain.

He dumped the sack of firewood in front of the lass, who had dropped the sword and crouched before him, bowed in horror.

"I take it you're the healer lass, Nÿr…"

She nodded quickly, not daring to look up. "Yes, sir."

"Build up the fire for me," he said, ignoring her shock. "Quickly, now." He stripped off the supply bag at his side, then threw off his snow jacket and gloves, already caked in ice. "Good," he said, spotting the little kettle. "You've got hot water."

* * *

Nÿr's cold hands fumbled with the bundle of kindling, breaking it apart and turning to quickly add two, then three of the treated logs to their guttering fire. It flared quickly, bringing immediate warmth to the little room.

Next to her, Erebor's _King_ (she could barely believe it was really him) was bending down to kiss his brother's forehead.

"Kili," she heard him murmur. "Kili? Brother?"

Her friend (lover?) had been unresponsive for the last hour and said nothing now, either.

But instead of cursing her for her poor care of his brother, her King was quietly rummaging through his bag for a handful of herbs.

"The hot water, please," he said, gesturing for her to hand him the kettle.

Nÿr hastened to help. The King had said _please_ to her.

And what he was doing now was not something she'd ever learned from the healers. She watched, fascinated, hardly daring to hope.

The King pulled a small, flat miner's pan from his pack, poured the hot water in, and then lightly crushed the herbs in his bare hands.

As she watched, he closed his eyes and started a low throated chant in _Khuzdul_ , almost like the first part of an ancient song. She even had a sense of something...as if something inside her could sense some strength that the King tapped…

Then he cast the herbs on the water and waved a hand through the steam, dispersing the scent of something wholly unfamiliar to her—yet surprisingly heady.

To Nÿr, it brought to mind clover on the sunny hillsides of Ered Luin and the smell of fresh raw honey...along with an astonishing clarity of mind and subtle energy that wiped away the weariness of what had been a very long day of constant demands.

As if catching the scent, Kili's head turned slightly toward the steam and his shivering slowly stopped, his body relaxing.

"Kili!" her King called to his brother as if issuing a command.

And this time Kili's eyes slitted open and his brows furrowed in puzzlement as he looked at his brother's face with an expression at once sweet and confused.

"Fee…?" he slurred his brother's name, his voice husky from the fever. A momentary shiver returned, then stopped. He moved a hand, and Fili grabbed it, clutching it as if he could make his brother strong again through sheer force of will.

"I'm here, Kili. I'm taking you home. Just hang on."

Kili's head moved a little in what Nÿr took as a nod. "Fee…" he whispered.

And Fili went to work in earnest, grabbing clean rags from his bag and dipping them in the strongly scented water. He bathed his brother's face, then motioned for Nÿr to uncover his leg and expose the angry scar just above the knee. He wet another cloth and pressed it to the old wound, nodding for Nÿr to take up the task.

They kept at it until Kili's breathing evened out. He looked spent, but a little of his color had returned and the scar, oddly enough, was looking less angry and more like an ordinary old wound.

"I think he's asleep, my Lord," Nÿr whispered. "You've done it."

Fili looked at her, his handsome face showing worry and strain. "The _athelas_ did it," he snorted. "I was just the pack horse." He glanced at her, then seemed to take in the half-undressed tumble of things in the little room. He said nothing but reached out, drawing her into a warm embrace.

"Thank you for staying with him."

She felt like breaking into tears or dying of shame (he had to know what they'd been up to), but she banished both thoughts. "I tried to help him, but this is not a simple fever...or the usual kind of infection. He was fine…" she shook her head, suddenly at a loss for words.

"Right up until the moment that he wasn't fine? Believe me, I know." Fili sighed and let her go, squeezing her hand in silent reassurance.

"But what is it? This is not an illness I've seen."

Fili looked sad. "Nor will you again, Mahal willing. It's Morgul poison, from an orc arrow some eighty years ago. We almost lost him then until a warrior used a handful of this," he nodded at the herb, "to bring him back."

"This is Kingsfoil?" she asked. And then she guessed which warrior must have done the healing.

He nodded. "We were so relieved…he was alive. Back to himself in less than a day, in fact. But what we didn't know then was that Morgul wounds never really heal. The poison hides in the blood and comes back, same time every year, for the rest of your life. It's a curse, really. Short of killing you, it makes your life hell."

"This happens to him...every _year_?" Nÿr could hardly fathom such a thing.

Fili nodded, then frowned. "Well, not _this_ exactly. Some years are worse than others." He touched his brother's forehead again. "When the dark lord fell, we thought the poison would lose its power. That he would be free." Fili's expression was faraway. "But here it is again..."

They were quiet, listening to Kili's now even breathing. "I must swear you to secrecy on this," Fili said, turning to lock eyes with her. "There are very few of us who know. Had the dark lord ever realized it, he would have used Kili against us, turned him into a wraith…or worse." He looked immensely sad then, and Nÿr could see the toll these years had taken on him. "For this reason we've kept Kili close to Erebor. He's hated it sometimes, but the mountain protects him." The King's eyes were moist with sorrow. "And now the free peoples have prevailed over Sauron, and yet my brother is not healed."

Nÿr felt her King's pain like an arrow to the heart, and she realized that no one-not even their own people-really understood the price paid by the Sons of Durin to secure the northern lands.

And something about that hardened her resolve at the tragic unfairness of it all.

"You have my discretion, my lord," she said. "And my oath as a healer to keep confidence. I will help all I can." She looked at Fili and saw him nod, his eyes cast down. A King, brought to humility by this horrible thing.

"How can I help now?" she asked quietly.

Fili, surprisingly, found a touch of humor in her question and when he looked at her, his blue eyes sparkled with a touch of mirth.

"Well, first of all," he said lightly. "You can find your clothes and get properly dressed in the presence of your King."

Nÿr's hands covered her eyes a moment, and she thought she'd sink into the ground with sheer embarrassment.

But when their eyes met again, his smile was gentle and she felt a touch of very fond approval in the way he raised an amused eyebrow at her.

.

.

* * *

** **A/ZN** THANK YOU for reading along! You guys are the best! Hand on Heart to Jessie152 (translator) and TallBoy (proofreader) for their amazing work on the simultaneous translation!

As always, you are welcome to leave a review or PM-it really does help us stay focused and it's great to hear from you. All feedback welcome! Mahal's Blessings - Summer (and Jessie and TallBoy!)


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Fili, Son of Durin, King Under the Mountain, kept his back discreetly turned while Nÿr the Healer sorted through the cast-off clothing for all the pieces of her healer's uniform and dressed herself.

"I'll need your help getting this one bundled up again," he said when she was done.

"Not a problem. I've a knack for dressing patients." She tried to sound cheery to cover her chagrin and started sorting Kili's clothes from his outer gear.

Fili knelt beside his brother and slid an arm under his shoulders, lifting him a little. "Kili, can you sit up for me? Wake up."

Kili managed to push himself into a sitting position mostly on his own, looking bleary eyed and confused.

"Sorry," Fili said to him as he popped an undershirt over Kili's head. "But we have to go outside if we're going to get you home." He managed Kili's arms through the sleeves, yanked the hem down, and went for the leather overshirt. Kili made a groan and shifted as if he would lie down again, but Fili caught him.

"No you don't, mister. I swear," he said, getting one of Kili's arms into the overshirt, "That you're as bad as Hannar in the morning." Fili smiled at Nÿr. "That's my youngest lad. He can stay up all night," he wrangled Kili's other arm into the overshirt. "But he's never a happy lad the next morning. Problem is," Fili pulled the shirt closed to button it and looked his groggy brother in the eye. "You're a few stoneweights heavier than a ten-year-old."

Kili squinted at him as if unimpressed with the humor.

Nÿr ducked her head and grabbed socks, sliding them over Kili's bare feet, humbled that she was trusted enough to witness this level of family intimacy between her King and his brother.

"Time to get you on your feet," Fili said.

Nÿr moved to Kili's other side.

Fili nodded. On a count of three, they had him up.

Nÿr took refuge in the banal work of an infirmary aide. She found Kili's smallclothes and his trousers, and they managed to get their patient to step into them. Nÿr stepped up to brace Kili's arm on her shoulder and let Fili pull up the trousers and get them buckled.

His boots went on next, then the snow cloak and gloves.

Fili leaned him against the wall and steadied him, retrieving his brother's sword and sheathing it.

He put it in Kili's hand and helped Nÿr gather up the remainder of the gear. By the time they were done, Kili had managed to tie the scabbard to his waist and cinch the knot.

Nÿr's respect for her King grew as she realized what he'd done—repairing the indignity of having to be dressed with the expectation that he arm himself.

"There's a rope tied to the rail outside," Fili said, shoving his gloves on. "You keep your hand on it," he said to Nÿr, "And I'll be right behind you."

Nÿr nodded, tightening the belt around her own snow coat and shoving hands into gloves.

"When we get back up to the terrace, don't let yourself get separated from us. You and I will stay with him all the way back to my chambers."

"Not the infirmary?"

"No." Fili's voice was firm. "Not secure enough, and too many others would ask questions about what's wrong. As far as everyone up there is concerned, he twisted his knee, he's cold, and he's tired. Nothing more."

She nodded again, ready to go.

Fili stopped her with a hand and looked at her. "Lass," he dropped his voice. "There's more to this than Kili's wound acting up. Something's afoot around these negotiations and there are traitors inside Erebor." His face was serious. "We need to be careful. Don't trust anyone you don't know, and stay with us. Do you understand?"

Her guts suddenly felt as cold as her feet as she realized there was more to this whole thing than a rockslide and two errant dwarves stranded in a storm.

"If we encounter trouble out there, fall to the ground. I can't fight with you in the way." Fili must have seen the sudden fear in her eyes and he nodded, seeming satisfied that he had her attention on the matter. "Let's go, then," he said. He pulled up his snow hood, then Kili's. He took one of his brother's arms over his shoulder and nodded for Nÿr to lead the way.

Outside, the blast of cold wind nearly knocked them over. Nÿr found the rope, and trying not to pull on it, used it to guide them forward. Fili stayed at her back.

Twenty steps out, she felt Fili shifting his weight, realizing that he likely carried his brother more than simply supporting him. _One foot in front of the other_ , she told herself. _Just keep going…just keep hoping nothing bad will happen._

After what seemed like an impossibly long time, she saw several heavy-coated dwarves ahead, and she cried out in alarm—but at her back, she heard Fili shout at them in recognition.

Following his lead, she gratefully allowed their help. But she stayed close to the brothers, as she'd been told, locking arms with Kili to keep from being pushed to the side.

"No," Fili objected when they wanted him to board the cart first. "It will take three." The dwarves nodded, and Fili motioned Nÿr in first, helped Kili in second, and then slid beside his brother.

But as soon as they sat, Nÿr felt the cold seeping into their bones. Nÿr and Fili, by silent, mutual agreement, wrapped arms around Kili to lend him their warmth as the others threw the leather cover over them and shouted, "Go!"

The cart jolted, then began a slow climb up the steep rails. Next to her, Nÿr could feel Kili starting to shiver. _No_ , she thought, afraid that he would backslide into senselessness again.

"Hold on!" she said to encourage him. "Just a few more minutes and we'll be inside."

She hugged him tighter, as if that would help. Was he already unconscious? But she felt his arm move, then his gloved hand found hers.

He squeezed with more strength than she expected.

And she squeezed back.

.

.

.

* * *

 **THANKS** for reading along! If you're a new reader, welcome aboard! If you've been following for awhile, it's an honor to have you with us.

As always, all feedback welcome, even if you just say Hi and let us know you're reading.

Mahal's Blessings everyone-and thanks to the translation team of **Jessie152** and TallBoy...who are simul-posting in German!

Until next time... Hand on Heart,

Summer (and Jessie!)


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

"Ah, there's the wayward laddie."

Nÿr looked up to see a rough-looking old greybeard miner with sympathetic eyes. He smiled broadly and offered his hand to Fili when the cart bumped to a stop on the western terrace.

"Thank you for your help, my friend," she heard Fili addressing the old timer while a small support crew hustled Kili and Nÿr out of the cart and bundled them inside the western entry.

It was Nÿr's first experience with seeing how Erebor's dwarves jumped to serve their King, and she was impressed with how carefully they eased Kili, who did little except grimace in pain (and maybe embarrassment), onto a stretcher held by eight ready young dwarves.

Nÿr stayed with him, playing up her role as healer and cautioning everyone to take care with his knee.

Then the old timer was beside her, draping one warming fur over her shoulders and another one over their prince.

"Should I get some walnuts for you?" he asked Kili, his voice tinged with the kind of humor that told Nÿr they were old friends.

But she saw Kili roll his eyes, despite his discomfort. "Bofur, I swear I'd throw them at you," he growled.

The old miner just laughed. But Kili reached for him and the miner gripped his hand quickly in heartfelt farewell.

And then they set off, arriving back at the royal apartment faster than Nÿr would have thought possible, taking a route that she didn't recall and couldn't have re-traced later.

The Lady An met them just inside the King's great room. Quick re-introductions were made (having met at the party the night before), and Nÿr did not miss the little wink the King gave to his Lady Wife. _Mahal._

And then An was there, helping Nÿr support Kili as he got to his feet.

"I can walk," he said softly.

"Of course you can," An said. "But we'll just make sure you get to your bed without falling on your face."

Nÿr, of course, had never seen the royal quarters. She had never even known its location within the Mountain, and certainly she's never been inside a prince's private chamber.

It was quite smaller than she might have expected, both simpler and more richly appointed than people would have imagined. It held a small fireplace, a small desk, and a bookcase, surprisingly well stocked. And it was not all stone and metals, either. Kili's rooms included beautiful wood panels and plush rugs. There were richly glowing blown-glass lamps, leather chairs, and the alcove bed was appointed with velvets and silks in deep jewel tones. The geometric pattern of his princely crest trimmed several square pillows. If anything, it downplayed his royal status.

He considered himself just a kid from Ered Luin, she recalled.

Fili followed them in.

"Wait," he said, before they could help his brother out of his gear. His hand raised and turned in a motion that Nÿr recognized as the disarm command used by a captain to a soldier.

Kili nodded and slowly his hands went to his belt and fumbled with the strap. After a moment, the belt was undone and he passed his sword to his brother.

Fili accepted it solemnly, taking it to a wall rack and stowing it.

The all-important male ritual complete, Lady An began divesting the gear from her brother-by-marriage with Nÿr assisting. They got him down to his skin again, and Lady An brought a thick robe to wrap around him.

In the meantime, Fili had laid out herbs and a warming pot on the top of a wooden chest. "I'll need boiling water," he said as they lay Kili in his bed. Lady An nodded and turned to the little hearth fire, swinging out an iron kettle that was in itself a work of art, unusually shaped and covered in a pine cone motif.

And Nÿr watched again as her King performed the little ritual where he steeped _athelas_ and chanted…dispersing the heady scent into the room. He repeated the work three times, filling extra warming pots that Lady An bundled into cozies and set aside to steep.

"We'll use these later when this one cools," Lady An explained in a murmur.

"Is this something I could learn to do?" Nÿr asked quietly.

Lady An smiled kindly but shook her head, stowing the last pot inside a warming box. " _The hands of the King are the Hands of a Healer_ ," she said. "Old saying, but true in this case." She looked over her shoulder at her husband. "But don't be fooled. It's the only healing spell he knows, and he only uses it for this."

"Elrond of Rivendell," Fili added, using a towel to dry his hands. "Showed it to me years ago when we talked to him about the orc wound. Took me a week of practice to learn it," he said. "I couldn't make it work in the Elvish," he smiled sadly as if recalling. "But once we translated it to ancient dwarvish I had it down."

"So it's not just the herb?"

"No." An said. "It's the herb plus the spell."

"And the Mountain," Fili added. "It's always a stronger cure when we do it inside the Mountain."

Fili looked at his lady wife and Nÿr expected that he would be told to rest. But she was mistaken. Instead, he began issuing instructions.

"Keep the kids and Nÿr inside our rooms, An," he began. "Until this is over. She can help you keep an eye on him. And now I need a bath, my formal robes, and something quick to eat."

And then he was gone.

Lady An touched Nÿr's arm. "We have our orders," she winked, then her expression became more serious. "Anything you need, ask for Gafi or Dzin. They wear the green tunics. I'll send in food for you, broth for him. Let him sleep, but when he wakes, try to get him to drink some if you can. Once His Lordship is sent on his way," she spared Nÿr an affectionate grin, "I'll see that we give you a chance for a bath and I'll find you something fresh to wear." Lady An explained the three exits from the room, warned her to only use the one to the family quarters and to keep all of them locked.

And then she was gone, leaving Nÿr alone with her patient.

Who lay gently snoring in his bed.

* * *

Fili received word that the ravens had emerged from their storm roosts as soon as he'd cleaned up. He sent a message to Lord Dwalin, and then he was back on the western terrace before mid-morning, this time in full court robes and playing the role of King Under the Mountain to the hilt.

He strode onto the terrace, seeing his first bit of sunlight on this icy cold Durin's Day. The wind was gone, having left a pristine blanket of snow behind.

The rescue cart and track had already been removed, and to the few visitors also on the terrace this morning, it was every bit the picturesque overlook with a stellar snow-covered view of the breathtaking valley below.

But Fili, Son of Durin, King Under the Mountain, wasn't there to look at the valley or the view. He looked to the clearing blue sky, holding up his royal hand in invitation.

He didn't have to wait long before a large, particularly glossy raven swooped in and landed on his upraised arm.

The bird fluffed and quorked in agitation.

"All right, all right," Fili crooned. "Just tell me."

Those watching only saw Erebor's King, dressed in rich Durin's Day finery, having quite a long conversation with the raven on his arm. He listened for a long time, nodding to the bird, and then held the fellow closer, speaking into the bird's ear.

And then he raised his arm, launching the large black corvid back into the sky.

None of them expected what came next. The raven circled, calling loudly. Other ravens joined it, circling as well and adding their voices to the call.

Several high born ladies covered their heads with scarves and ducked inside, shocked and

worried at the odd behavior.

But Fili stood straight and firm, his expression focused and jaw clenched as the bird gathering grew to represent quite a raucous flock. Soon there were hundreds of ravens and the noise became deafening.

And then they became quiet, except for the sound of their wings beating on the wind, their circling speed increasing like a small black storm.

Fili called out to them then, issuing a roaring command in Khuzdul.

And then the ravens arrowed past the stone columns of the western terrace and shot like a feathery blast into the halls of the mountain.

And anyone close enough to the King to see his stony expression and ice-hard eyes stepped back.

The King Under the Mountain was on the hunt.

.

.

.

* * *

 **A/N: As always, HUGE thanks for reading along!** I genuinely appreciate the effort taken to drop a note or leave a review-I don't always have time to reply to each one individually, but I thank all of you! Several readers have noted that the last couple of chapters have had few changes, but as a teaser I can tell you that the NEXT chapter, Ch 13, has some entirely brand-new scenes added...I'm polishing them off even as I write this!

Hand on heart to **Jessie152** and Tallboy for all the work translating and posting this story in German. It's been added here on , but also on the German site . I've managed to navigate the German site using a bit of Google translate on the side. The reviews there are really interesting. (blush.) Applause for the Deutsche Team!

Finally, friend **Nenithiel** has finished her 6 chapter story (related to this one) titled "Tempered by Loss." High fives to Nen! Check it out if you'd like!

Chapter 13 will post next week...if all goes smoothly.

Until then, cheers!

Summer (and Jessie!)


	13. Chapter 13

****A/N:** _Happy Thanksgiving to the US readers...and apologies for the slow posting. This chapter has three new middle scenes that we (me and the beta team) worked on quite a bit (while working full time, presenting twice at a conference in So Cal, and taking the hubby off for a lovely anniversary trip!) I drafted what I felt needed to be added in order to "fix" in my mind what was the too-sudden resolution to a long-awaited romance, and the beta's reviewed and said Yes or Hmmm. LOL. They did send me back to the drawing board for tweaks several times ;D It's still far from perfect, but I invite you to read along and let me know what you think...special thanks to **Jessie152** and **Tallboy** for the inter-continental teamwork...and **Nenithiel** for the moral support!_

 _Mahal's Blessings, Summer_ ** _._ **  
**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen**

"All this will become clear," Fili stated firmly to the crowd of onlookers as he strode from the western terrace. "If you'll join me in the King's Hall." He didn't wait to see who came along, however. He simply took off, following the path of the raucous birds he had loosed inside the mountain.

Predictably, a flurry of angry ravens inside Erebor resulted in an eruption of screams, hysterics, complaints, and demands from the dwarves inside. People ran, sought shelter under stone tables, and took cover against walls as swarms of swift birds screeched past.

But Fili didn't let any of this stop him. He continued through the halls at a brisk pace, a small crowd of overwrought visitors trailing behind.

Inside, the ravens were hard at work. They swooped through the main cavern in a black cloud, then split into speedy squadrons, veering off into smaller halls, flying through every room in the mountain—from guest chambers to kitchens to the infirmary. Anyone who tried stopping one quickly learned that the ensuing uproar attracted teams of Erebor dwarves in full battle gear, pre-staged for quick response throughout the city.

"No interference with the ravens," the soldiers commanded. Most of the birds would simply fly in and then out of a chamber or room, but when the birds congregated and set up a loud cacophony, armed warriors responded and without preamble, cornered the residents and searched the indicated rooms with a vigor.

Fili entered the King's Hall trailing an angry rabble, but strode confidently to where seven trusted dwarves stood in a semicircle at the throne.

With his five advisors stood old Bofur and his rotund brother Bombur, and they had a rough miner's box full of rock and powder sitting on a stone plinth.

Inside the semi-circle, lying in state with honor: the body of a fallen dwarf warrior. To the side sat a grief stricken widow and two glowering sons, both well into adulthood. The sight of this turned the rabble silent and they milled about, whispering; some removed caps in respect.

Fili mounted the steps to his throne, throwing his cloak off his shoulder as he turned, revealing the mithril mail of the King of Erebor. His face and his stance, had he known it, were so like a younger, blonder version of Thorin Oakenshield that several of the old timers stood a little taller.

"Your patience, my friends," he stated, his voice filling the hall. "While the Royal Guard conducts a search of the mountain."

"For what?" an ill-mannered visitor shouted out.

Dwalin stepped forward to stand near the open casket of the fallen dwarf. "The persons," he growled. "Responsible for the murder of a royal guard and acts of sabotage against the Mountain itself."

The calls of far off ravens raising an alarm echoed through the halls into the throne room.

Moments later, a single glossy raven shot through the great doors and flew straight to the throne, circling it at full cry.

Most dwarves couldn't understand the birds, but anyone with a drop of Durin's blood certainly could—so Fili, along with Dwalin, Gloin, and Dori turned to listen intently.

"The powder! We find the powder!" it kept repeating.

"Like this powder?" Dwalin demanded, pointing his staff toward the box of rock debris that Bofur had brought.

The raven swooped low to land on the box edge, eyeing the evidence in the box, pecking at it once, and then bobbing up and down. Even those without the blood of Durin in their veins could interpret the raven's answer.

"We collected this sample last night from the site of the last rockfall near the western terrace," Bofur explained in a loud voice so all could hear. "The rockfall that killed our honored fallen, the veteran Hoskel." He took off his hat and nodded in respect at the dwarf lying in state. "The ruddy stuff mixed in with this rock is residue from red-dust blasting powder. A very particular kind of blasting powder not in use inside Erebor's mines because it's dangerous and unpredictable. It comes from only one source, and that's quite far away from here."

"It's banned inside our kingdom," Gloin spoke up. "In fact, until recently, this powder was used only by the legions of Mordor. We were told," he glowered at the crowd, "that production had stopped and stockpiles destroyed."

"The ravens," Dwalin stepped up to stand beside his cousin. "Are showing us who among the current residents of Erebor have red-dust in their possession."

Several of the milling crowd stepped back, as if to distance themselves from any association with saboteurs.

At the throne, King Fili raised a hand and the raven launched itself toward him, landing on the back of the great throne and then hopping to the King's hand. Fili spoke briefly to the bird, then sent it off on some new errand.

"In the meantime," Gloin stated in a loud voice. "We wait for the Erebor Guard to bring forth the accused." He folded his arms and rested them on top of his short staff, clearly willing to stay awhile.

* * *

Kili opened one eye, feeling bleary and confused. _Spiders..._ He always remembered the Mirkwood spiders when he felt like this. _Webbing!_ He struggled to free his arms, then realized he was in his bed...his own bed in his brother's suite inside Erebor.

 _Not webbing. Just sheets. Too hot for sheets…_ Since he'd apparently shed the robe they'd given him, he would kick the sheets off as well.

In a moment. Curiously, he couldn't quite find the will to kick. _If I just lay here,_ he tried to tell himself, but he quickly lost the thread of his thoughts and the awareness of where he was.

 _Webbing…_ He and his brother-spider-drugged and caught in webbing. _So hard to wake up...need a sword...cut the webs…_

The echo of someone else's voice. _Where's Bilbo?_

A chair scooted, a sound clear as day. Kili blinked his vision into focus and once again recognized his own room inside Erebor. Someone tended the fire.

She turned to look at him, perfect green eyes clear and round and so full of concern.

The healer lass. Like no lass he'd ever met before. Honor...willing heart… Duty to their people.

And beautiful. The way she moved...and so serious. But he'd made her smile...he remembered that. And her plump lower lip...so distracting.

And _what_ had he done? His brain blanked. Then came the unspoken knowledge of exactly what he'd done. It was a good thing he was too fevered to groan aloud.

 _Mahal…_ this lass in his arms. So perfect...and so impossible.

He'd been so hopeful that the morgul fever would be gone, that a real friendship with a real lass was completely reasonable. He'd even let himself think she could Choose him. _Ass,_ he berated himself. The fever was quite obviously _not_ gone… _Morgul wounded. Cursed. No one could love that._

Didn't it make him a completely unacceptable lad for a promising young lass like this one?

 _Might as well take a knife to the heart._

He closed his eyes. _It just can't be. She must forget me,_ he told himself. The thought hurt more than the scar from that Morgul shaft. He'd never met a lass quite like her.

But she wouldn't deserve this, some inner voices whispered to his muddled brain. _Tainted. Infected. Foul…_ He wasn't worth her time.

And if she remained, she would understand this all too soon. The fever would rise, he would be unable to keep from screaming...and he would hear even more voices, more agonizing ones, ... _darkness is coming...the value of your life, scum, is worth nothing..._

 _The lass must go,_ he decided, his thoughts swirling in a haze of fever. _Forget we ever met._ Be reassigned to duty far away...sent back to Ered Luin or Dale...

He would have to forget her, too…somehow.

Kili desperately tried to steel his will. _I must be no more to her than another lad lost in battle._

* * *

Nÿr welcomed the chance for a bath. The Lady An (the Queen!) had returned to tend her husband's brother and sent her off with a green-shirted matron who clucked at the mud on her uniform.

"A hot bath and set of clean things," the matron said, leading her down the hall. "In here, lass."

If Nÿr doubted she was inside the quarters of Erebor's royal family, she didn't doubt it now. A chamber of clean, polished stone with plush carpets and a sunken, steaming bath large enough for…two.

 _Kili..._ Nÿr stared at the steaming bath, remembering the touch of his hands sliding from her shoulders down her back. She imagined the gentle sound of water splashing against bare skin and the contours of his muscles under her hands, accompanied by heavy breaths. And in the air, a haze of sage mingled with the memory of Kili's musky scent…

''Come now—out of those work clothes." The matron ushered her in.

Nÿr was startled, returning slowly to the here and now.

"Our Lady sent word to the Master Physician that you're temporarily reassigned," the matron said, pointing to a neat bundle on a wooden bench. "And they've sent fresh things for you."

 _My house boots...and a clean uniform!_ Nÿr blinked at the royal efficiency. "Thank you…" she managed to say.

The matron smiled. "Give yourself a good soak, lassie," she said with sympathy. "Leave your grubbies there," she pointed to a basket. "We'll have them laundered and returned." With a nod and a pat on Nÿr's arm, she backed out of the opulent room and closed the door, leaving Nÿr to stare at the cushioned bench, the blue crystalline flecks in the rich, green stone, and the carved tiles bearing the King's sigil.

For a moment she stood in shock. She just could not imagine soiling the spotless floor with her filthy gear.

 _Well, quickly now,_ she chided herself. And having just completed a ten week trip across half of Middle Earth, she understood the blessing of a good hot bath and indeed, suddenly wanted nothing more than to sink herself into that absolutely lovely steaming water…

She quickly shucked her dirt-stained gear and dropped the work clothes into the laundry basket. Grabbing _two_ towels ( _Mahal_ , there had to be twenty stacked neatly on the shelf,) she took herself directly to the bath and dipped a toe.

Nÿr had no words for the instant bliss and was in up to her neck in no time.

She felt the tension release in her whole body, let her head fall back, and breathed out with a gentle, "Ooooo…"

She brought two handfuls of warm water up to her face, let it flow away, and then quickly undid the long braid and shook it out. She plunged underwater, let her hair float free, and then surfaced next to the little ledge with the soaps.

With a healer's efficiency about such things, she washed her hair, rinsed, and then finally leaned against the side to let herself rest a moment. A bath in the royal quarters…! She'd never imagined such a thing.

She took a deep breath of the steamy air, full of the scent of sage oil… _but no waft of Kili_. Yet the memory of his warmth and touch was fresh in her mind...falling asleep, nestled against his strong shoulder... She closed her eyes as if back in that snow cave with him...he was singularly handsome and powerfully built...with humor in his eyes and a way of smiling with such charming, self-deprecating good nature...

And then she opened her eyes to the reality of being alone in a bathing room larger than the trainee dorm. After a moment, she found a cloth and soap and went to work on the rest of herself.

But as she did it, she sobered. Kili had kissed her ear, just in this spot. _Mahal_ , and not only her ear! Once more she could almost feel his strong hand curving around her hip...and the way she'd felt with him, without thought, and so _intense_ …

She stopped. It was one night...caught in a snowstorm.

Blissful, yes. Realistic, no.

She looked at the thick cloth in her hand. _This kind of thing...it's not for the likes of me,_ she realized. She was not a high-born lass, not the kind who primped herself for hours—she actually had little care for her clothes and hair. She preferred her simple work uniform and her healer's braid and, in fact, couldn't imagine twisting her hair into anything different or wearing some cascade of ruffles…

 _I don't belong here...not me, not with my past,_ she feared, looking around the sumptuous room. This was Kili's world, not hers. She'd been raised in the most disreputable kind of pub in the roughest part of Dale.

She stopped herself there. She'd left that life and risen above the mistakes of a rebellious orphan to find self-worth in her work and her service.

But Kili was a Prince of Erebor. _The King's brother…_ Her stomach went hollow. _Mahal. What was I thinking?_

Well, she _hadn't_ been thinking. She covered her face with her hands, her jumbled thoughts persuading her to imagine more and more doubts. Erebor healers prided themselves in their ethics, and letting herself become involved in matters of the heart while on duty was not accepted. She was making the mistake with the Dale man all over again...the rumor mill would be unforgiving. She closed her eyes tight then, as if she could hold back the tears...but she couldn't. They came.

 _Where did this lead? Where could this possibly lead?_ She had no doubt that a lowly lass like herself was out of the question even for _friendship_ with a prince. And with her history? Lasses matched with Princes were supposed to be pure of heart and body…

That left what? Bed sport on the side? Quick liaisons like a chambermaid used for convenience? In an angry gesture she dashed a tear from her cheek.

 _No._

And then fear in the pit of her stomach. If the Master Physician ever found out... _Mahal_. He'd send her packing.

She plunged herself under water one more time and came up, jaw set. Healers trained to be objective and not let themselves be self-absorbed with feelings like this. _It is your duty_ , she reminded herself.

She would have to correct her ways...all her training and her future as a full physician was at stake here, after all. She had to view Kili as a patient now, nothing more. She would tend him according to his brother's wishes and then return to her proper place in the trainee halls.

Their night by the fire had been more of a fever dream, she decided. Perhaps just a casual fling...an opportunity taken, convenient for one night only. How else could she look at it? And with this thought came a flare of anger at herself for so easily falling for him.

Because she _had._ She stopped, wishing in her heart that she was the kind of lass who could step up and make such a bold, outrageous Choice.

 _It can't be me,_ she told herself in a tiny voice. Whoever Chose the King's brother would have to be more beautiful, more pure, more properly mannered, more...everything.

 _Because I am none of those things._ It hurt, admitting that to herself. But she steeled her will.

With that, she stood, wrung the water from her hair and denied herself anymore self-indulgent soaking or tears.

 _Wounded soldiers,_ she acknowledged, _Have brief infatuations with their healers all the time._ There were tricks a lass used to sidestep it—to avoid the lad by trading shifts or switching ward assignments.

But with a prince?

 _Yes. Even so_. As soon as she was given leave to report back to the infirmary, she'd request a reassignment to the mothers' ward...she had learned much of Ered Luin's techniques for delivery complications, after all.

She toweled her hair, looked one more time at the amazing crystal-flecked stonework in the bath...and realized yet again how very out of place she was.

 _Oh, Kili..._ she thought for one last moment, regret in her heart for feelings that simply could never be acknowledged.

Then she shook her head at herself and re-dressed in clean healer-blue trousers and blouse with her healer's vest over the top. _I am a healer trainee...plain and simple,_ she told herself.

And once he was better, she feared the Prince was going to see her as nothing more.

* * *

Heart thumping from another nightmare of spiders and orcs, Kili woke a second time to the sound of quietly trickling water...then the gentle touch of a warm, damp cloth on his forehead and the heady scent of steaming athelas. _Ale barrels and wood smoke..._ the memory of better times past. It nearly lured him back to sleep. Yet these were _her_ hands cupping his jaw, soothing his brow. _Oh, Lass…_ He knew it was her—the sweet healer Nÿr.

 _Mine...but not mine. Never mine._ He clenched his jaw against the urge to lean into her hand, to press his lips to the inside of her wrist. _What would I not give for this lass in my life…_

But when he moved, he turned his head away and his thoughts were dark. _She deserves better than a cursed old warrior who can never leave his brother's land._

"Are you awake?" she murmured.

His eyes opened a little and he saw her—the tall form of the lass he would have to forget.

She looked back at him, all healer efficiency. She was checking his eyes, the temperature of his skin, tucking the blanket around him.

 _Mahal_ , he realized, seeing that something had changed. _She knows it too, then. Knows she has to move on…_ Unexplainably, this hurt far more deeply than he'd thought.

He petulantly shrugged one arm out from under the blanket and scrubbed at his ear. Why was everything so damned disjointed when the fever came?

Her sober expression assessed him. Then that cute swing of her hip...and she moved a pot of athelas closer, fanning the steam over him.

He let his hand fall back to the covers as the sudden tension dissipated in a confusing swirl of frustration and relief. After a few calming breaths he looked up at her again. The tail-end of her long braid, now slightly damp, hung near his hand and on impulse, he touched it again.

She went still.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he said softly.

She said nothing for a long moment. He caught her eye and they looked at each other.

"I'll do my best as a healer," she said, her words sounding rehearsed. But when she looked away, her voice dropped. "I'm not a worthy partner for you, Kili. You know that. All of Dale knows it." She shook her head. Why didn't he understand? "The rumors about me have not been forgotten, I assure you."

He felt his eyebrows twitch and forced his blurry brain to work. "I thought I was the one…" he managed. "Unfit for a lass like you."

She looked at him in alarm.

It soothed the part of him that had felt hurt by her coolness. "I'd hoped this was all over…" he tried to say it lightly and shrug off the despair of his curse, but his words came out sounding pained. He let his breath out in a small huff. "It's not..."

Her perfect green eyes were full of welling tears and she shook her head. "No," she confirmed. "It's not." Yet she did not cry for him, did not give in to tears.

 _Oh, my brave lass_. " _Mahal…_ " he mumbled. "I don't want to lose you," he said, feeling it deep in his heart but only half aware that something had prompted him to say it aloud.

"My lord," she said carefully. "I would not presume that one night of…"

"No," he said, feeling oddly alarmed and trying to rise. "That was not a casual, throw away thing. You," he said, looking her in the eyes. "Are not a throw-away person. Not to me." He swallowed, expecting now to hear the words he'd always feared. _It's too much. I don't understand it._

"And stop calling me Lord." His words were barely above a whisper.

"Lay back and rest," she murmured. "You are unwell…" Her arm was around him and she eased him back to the pillow, and he let her do it—anything as long as it meant she stayed close to him. He could even smell the clean scent of sage oil soap, feel the gentle strength of her…

She shushed him then, one thumb gently stroking his forehead. His eyelids became suddenly heavy and he half raised one eyebrow in surprise at the trick.

And then he was asleep again.

* * *

When Kili woke the third time, he was alarmed by the sound of a scuffle outside his chamber. He sat up, his instinct to rise warring with a complete lack of strength and balance. And instead of throwing off his covers and grabbing his sword he found himself simply trying brace himself well enough to sit upright.

And there was Nÿr, opening the door to find a large, glossy raven who hopped inside and then flew for the back of a chair.

"Oh!" Kili heard her gasp, and part of his brain wondered if this was some kind of odd fever dream.

"Hen-hen...hen-hen…" The raven seemed to bow to the lass like a fledgling would defer to an elder. Then it eyed him. "King commands: Raven Prince in great hall," the raven quorked, pinning Kili with a steady look.

"Now?" she asked the bird. "He's not quite well. It would be better if…"

"Now," the bird said. "King says now."

"Yes, sir bird," Nÿr acquiesced, making a small curtsy. "Please tell his lordship that his brother will be there."

With that the bird eyed Kili again, then launched itself into the air and out of the chamber.

Kili stared **,** still trying to sort fever brain from reality.

"Here. I can help you get ready," Nÿr said, finding his cast-off robe.

Kili just blinked at her. "The raven," he said, trying to get his thoughts in order.

"Yes. He brought a message from your brother."

"But you understood him."

Nÿr seemed unconcerned as she shook out the robe. "Ravens are not that hard to…"

"Yes, they are," Kili told her, eyes wide. "That's an uncommon skill. Really uncommon." She held out the robe.

Kili grabbed it, suddenly embarrassed by her simple gesture. "And since when did you become my personal nurse?''

He saw Nÿr's posture freeze. _Mahal,_ he was an ass when he didn't feel well.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, reaching to touch her hand. "I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just...I want a friend, not a servant." He leaned his forehead against her arm. "If you would have me," he said. "Now that you know."

He wondered if she thought him tainted and unacceptable, infected as he was with a disease that could never be cured.

Nÿr's face was still, but her eyes blinked, as if she were thinking. "I'm just an orphan girl who grew up to be a healer," she said, slowly. "No one would ever take my Choice for you seriously even if I spoke of it."

"I would," he said firmly. "And if you can talk to ravens, you're not 'just an orphan girl'."

Then three other realizations quickly came together in his fuzzy brain. She was Durin-blooded, she would be hunted for it, and that story about the man in Dale trying to get her to leave with him? It meant someone else knew and had already tried once to take her against her will.

 _Mahal..._ how had no one known? The Grey Mountains wanted _him_ for a marriage...but fact was, all they needed was _her_. Alone...with no kin to protect her.

Unacceptable. No. The horror of what would happen to her made his guts icy.

Kili slid from beneath the covers, intending to stand but wobbling and grabbing the bedframe for support instead.

Nÿr frowned, reaching out to help support him. "I don't understand."

He looked at her, their eyes nearly level. "Then it's a good thing that I do."

.

.

.

* * *

 **A/N:** High five to **Jessie152** for the Beta work (along with Tallboy) and for providing fab research on what colors of crystal would be found in green stone (in this case, malachite for Erebor's green stone…) Hand on heart to her for the detail check and the very cool science facts! **Jessie152:** _Malachite is predominantly found together with azurite (beautiful royal blue!) and crystals like baryte (white pink crystals), calcite (white yellow crystals) and of course bornite, which is peacock ore._


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Kili swayed, feeling chilled and unsteady from the fever.

"Easy does it," he heard Nÿr's voice, then felt her arm around his waist, supporting him as his thoughts cleared. Despite a dull headache, he found himself thinking about her ear again.

"Hold still," he said.

She stared. "What…?"

"Just…" he leaned closer. "Still." He could smell her hair, freshly washed, as fragrant as balsa. He felt her tremble just slightly and closed the last inch between them. He kissed her lightly on the forehead, closing his eyes and savoring her scent. It helped clear his aching head.

"I can't fight this," he whispered. "Don't want to."

She did not pull away, and her hand came up to rest against his chest. He thought she would agree, but her expression was very still.

It was all too much for her to take in, Kili realized. "I'm just a lad from Ered Luin," he murmured, trying to reassure her.

She looked at him in doubt.

He nearly lost his balance again. "Nÿr, I want this to work…" he faltered. "I would like this to work." His voice seemed to lose its strength. "If you think you could love me back."

She blinked. "How could I not?" She looked like she would say more, but instead got one shoulder under his arm and helped him stand straighter. He stretched his bad leg, testing whether it would hold his weight.

" _Mahal_ ," he let his breath out. "The scar's on fire…" He grimaced.

She stood firm, supporting him until the pain eased.

After a moment Kili stood on his own. She assessed his balance, then stood back.

"See?" He managed a half smile. "We're good together."

Her eyes were wide. "Kili," her voice was quiet. "The minute the council found out about me…"

"No." He reached for her hand, wanting to pull her close again. "My brother is the one who counts, and my brother won't care."

"But the Court...the councilors!" She took another step back.

"Believe me, they know about the elf. Surely any rumor about a man pales in comparison."

"I'm no one, Kili." She shook her head, hands open in helpless confusion. "A fosterling of no family whatsoever. I have no right to expect…"

"Nÿr, you can hear the ravens speak. I just saw you do it." Kili stepped forward, closing the widening gap between them.

"So? It's nothing…I've always been able to…"

He reached out and grabbed her hands to stop her panic. "It's everything, sweetheart," he said gently. "It's proof that you have the blood of Durin in your veins."

She stared at him.

"Don't know how," he said. "But you're descended from the line of Durin, same as I am."

Her face paled. "But we… _in the guardhouse_ …"

He realized she was worried now about their night by the fire.

But Kili just shrugged. "Don't borrow trouble. Odds are we're more than three degrees apart, and that's all we need. In the old days, fourth and fifth cousins wed all the time."

"How would we even know?" She whispered, eyes wide.

"An will know," he said with confidence. "She has all the family genealogies. We'll just ask…in a casual, what's-up-with-the-ravens kind of way."

She looked dubious.

Kili's gut suddenly felt hollow. He looked at her hands held in his, then back at her. "You don't want me?"

She looked up, alarmed, and her answer involved pulling him close and hugging very tight.

He heard her sniff and kissed her hair, then pressed his forehead to hers, hands cupping her face. She had a willing heart, but she was too used to hiding behind duty and all this had to seem fast and impossible.

"This is right, Nÿr," he said quietly. "I feel it in my soul. You have no highborn illusions about me...and on my honor, lass...I would love and protect you to the ends of the world."

"Kili…" she whispered. One shaky hand came up to touch his, and he felt her breathing calm, her panic receding.

And then a polite tap on the door and a query from one of the chamberlains.

"On my way!" Kili called back as they stepped apart.

Nÿr took a deep breath. "You're summoned," she said, reminding him of the task at hand.

 _And you need time to think,_ he realized, seeing how bewildered she was. He took her hands again, giving them a reassuring squeeze. He was heartened to feel her grip tighten in return...and his heart lifted a bit when he saw her beautiful green eyes meet his. On impulse once again, he kissed her hand to show he meant what he'd said.

Her eyes brightened and there—a hint of that smile and the softest touch of her fingers on his jaw.

It was enough.

Then, despite chills and a headache, Kili turned himself over to the chamberlains for a quick bath and a fresh set of court-appropriate clothes. Then he managed a brief word with Lady An as she did him the honor of placing his prince's royal circlet on his head.

He found a ready escort in the form of his brother's pages and a few of the Royal Guard, and hoping that he looked stronger than he felt, bowed his thanks to Lady An and let them lead on.

But before the door closed behind them, he heard his brother's wife asking someone to join her for tea in the Queen's study…and the person who answered was Nÿr.

* * *

Fili sat stone still, glowering from his place on Erebor's great throne. He hated legal proceedings, but it was a duty he would not shirk. He knew the law inside and out, but had he not been born heir to the throne, he would have never willingly studied it.

That said, he was waiting for proof that the entire court could witness and accept. The people of Erebor needed to fully understand someone's guilt before he administered justice. It was an important part of good rule.

"My Lord!" A guard called, as a raucous flight of ravens preceded a cadre of guards into the throne room. The birds swirled through the great hall until Fili shouted a command that had them settling, flapping and ruffling high up in the stone ceiling. The guards entered in two columns, escorting a group of about ten dwarves, none of whom were residents of Erebor.

The dwarves in custody were herded forward, and several sacks of evidence placed on the floor before the King.

It was old Dwalin who rose to command the guard. At his signal, the lasses in the group were offered seats to the side, but they chose to stand with the lads and remained.

Fili recognized Yngvli the merchant and two of his insufferable daughters. How very predictable. But he guessed Yngvli was only a smoke shield. He was betting that the real culprit was one of the others.

At a nod, one of the Guard came forward and bowed.

"The search by the ravens," he said in a voice loud enough to be heard in the hall. "Revealed these dwarves of the Grey Mountains hiding stores of red dust blasting powder, a mining explosive expressly forbidden under Our Law inside Erebor. These ten," he indicated the group. "Have the residue on their hands and admit to knowingly handling it."

Fili nodded. Using what he secretly called his Thorin voice, he called out to the gathered crowd.

"Does anyone present contest this, Our Law?" It was the chance for anyone in the Hall to object. No one did.

"What is the penalty for this crime?" Fili asked.

One of the clerks stood. "My Lord, may it please the court, the penalty concerning the possession of forbidden explosives is a fine of 50,000 one ounce gold coins."

Fili nodded. "Does anyone contest this judgment?"

Again, no one spoke.

Fili raised one hand to signify his judgment. "The penalty is called in the amount of 50,000 one ounce gold pieces." Old Gloin looked ready to demand the payment on the spot.

The group from the Grey Mountains remained stoic.

 _They ought to be,_ Fili said to himself. It was a pretty light sentence, and with Yngvli's money to back them up, something they could well afford. _But I'm not done,_ he glared.

Near the body of the fallen King's Guard, lying in state, a pair of dwarves dressed in mourning robes stood and signaled that they wished to address the proceeding.

Fili nodded to them. "Speak, sons of Hoskel."

They bowed in respect, then the taller of the two cleared his throat. "We respect the penalty, My King, but we petition the court: is there not a bigger crime to be judged? Our father," the dwarf stopped, his voice breaking in grief, and he gestured toward his father's body. "Our father lies here dead, victim of a rockslide intentionally set by this…" he looked in great disgust at the group from the Grey Mountains. "Rabble. We petition the court to try these criminals for murder."

Fili held up a hand. "The court agrees. We will judge your petition." He looked to his guard. "Call Prince Kili, Commander of the Erebor Guard, and the archer Skirfir, of the second division, as witnesses. Call also Lord Rathsvith of the Grey Mountains, King of Ered Mithrin."

Guards saluted and court attendants scurried about. Those watching the proceedings muttered in speculation.

After several consultations that took far more time than usual, one of the attendants stepped forward and bowed.

"Lord Rathsvith is reported infirm," he stated. "He will be brought down, but it is said he is represented now by his cousin, Lord Aurvang."

Fili remained expressionless, guessing exactly where they would find this Lord Aurvang. "Bring him forward."

His guess correct, Fili watched as one of the heavier dwarves in the Grey Mountains group was brought forward from his hiding place behind the others.

And then, through the side entrance, the King's Guard escorted two newcomers: Prince Kili in his courtly robes and Prince's circlet, limping slightly and looking pale, though no one except for a few knew that the reason was anything other than a minor leg injury. Behind him came a younger dwarf in simpler archer's uniform, using crutches, one leg heavily bandaged and splinted.

A stone bench was brought forth for the young archer to sit. Fili approved, as it also made a perfectly reasonable excuse for his brother to sit as well. Fili could tell that neither of them should be up and about. He vowed to move the proceedings along and see them back to their beds.

Then Lord Rathsvith was carried in on a stretcher, looking completely unconscious.

Fili gestured for the court's senior physician to assist.

And then the questioning began in earnest. First he prompted Prince Kili for his report about the rockslide. Kili covered the basics, then relayed that the young archer Skirfir, only survivor of the incident well enough to appear, was witness to the individuals seen on the mountain at the source of the slide.

Skirfir was able to point out three dwarves among the Grey Mountains group. "These three, My Lord," Skirfir said, indicating Aurvang and two others. "No mistake."

Skirfir was excused to return to the infirmary. Kili remained.

"My Lord," the senior physician called for permission to speak.

Fili nodded.

"Ered Mithrin's King has been poisoned." The physician touched the King's lips, then held up a finger stained purple. " _Omrid_ Potion."

The crowd watching the proceeding erupted in shock and hushed chatter. _Omrid_ potion could be very deadly in the right dose—and only the lowest traitor would dare use it...

High overhead, the ravens darted back and forth in agitation.

One flew down to the throne, screaming his anger.

Fili launched himself from the dais and strode to the side of Ered Mithrin's King to see for himself. Regicide was a crime that all seven Kings took seriously. They had to. For the life of a visiting King to be threatened inside Erebor? Unacceptable.

Representatives from the other kingdoms stepped forward to see as well. In the audience, people stared in shock.

Fili ordered that the visiting King be taken to the infirmary for treatment and that guards be posted to ensure his safety. Two advisors from the Iron Hills accompanied them.

Then he spoke softly with old Jothro from the Iron Hills, pondering which crime had precedence for judgment when a small fight broke out between the three lasses in the group from the Grey Mountains. Apparently one was attempting to lay blame on two of the others in hopes of being judged innocent herself.

The King's Guard separated them, revealing several vials of the offending potion in the skirt pocket of Yngvli's younger daughter. She cried her innocence, calling for Aurvang to help her.

And that was when Lord Aurvang simplified matters by drawing steel on the King of Erebor inside his own Halls.

He faced Fili, double-edged broadsword in his hands. "A curse on the House of Durin," he shouted. "Conspirators!" Then he added an insult in Khuzdul that sounded more orc-like than dwarf.

Fili stepped clear of old Jothro, genuinely welcoming the challenge to a fight. Here, finally, was a crime he could punish.

"I call for your blood," Aurvang snarled. "And the blood of all your children!"

The King's Guard looked to Kili and Dwalin, both glowering but motionless, and then stood still.

The King could fight his own battle.

Fili took two steps away from the others, gaining fighting space. "For what reason? What has the House of Durin done to you?"

Aurvang gripped his sword. "You supported Gondor in the war. You still support them!"

Fili took three more steps. "And you supported Mordor, is that it? You don't like that the world has changed, Aurvang. But it has."

"Has it? We ten," he jerked his head at the others. "Have managed to stop Gondor's treaty." He snorted, baring his teeth like an orc. "I say this: the legions will rise again."

Fili slowed his steps. "And the House of Durin will always stand firm against them."

Aurvang laughed, advancing one step toward Erebor's King. "Then you will pay."

"The sentence, Aurvang," Fili called out in a loud voice that all could hear. "For drawing steel upon the King inside Erebor is death."

Aurvang scoffed. "You stand there weaponless!"

Fili, Son of Durin and King Under the Mountain, unsheathed his twin swords from their concealed sheath with a metallic shoosh.

"Never," he said, holding both at the ready.

Aurvang growled and raised his broadsword to strike, his face red and angry.

Fili, King of Erebor, easily parried seven strikes from Aurvang, who clearly felt confident in his attack. Yet it was apparent to all that the Stonefoot lord was no match for a Son of Durin. Like a trainee instructor, Fili was letting the lad try his hand.

And the lad was serious. He raised his sword for an eighth stroke, a backhand. "I'll have your head," Aurvang declared, but as he swung, Fili simply stepped back and let the lad over-balance. Aurvang recovered, glaring his frustration. "And then…" he roared. "I'll have the heads of all your kin!"

On the sidelines, both Kili and Dwalin raised eyebrows in doubt.

Fili clearly decided he'd had enough and took the advantage, stepping in with a series of relentless downstrokes from both swords. Aurvang struggled to parry, stepping back so quickly as he did so that he nearly stumbled over his own feet. The clashing of swords rang in rapid cadence until, with one sideways swipe, Fili sent Aurvang's sword flying. The onlookers gasped, then went still and silent as the sword slid with a metallic skid halfway across the hall.

Aurvang took two more steps back...shaking his empty sword hand as he panted and gasped for breath.

Fili stalked forward, swords at the ready, his expression hard as stone.

Aurvang lowered his head with a growl, and then a small fighting axe was in his hand and he looked ready to charge.

Fili didn't give him the chance—his eyes flashed at this final insult and his twin blades whirled smoothly in three strikes: one knocked the offending weapon from Aurvang's hand in a spray of blood, the other struck Aurvang upside the head with flat of the blade. Aurvang's head went down and to the left, and Fili spun, bringing his first blade around to the exposed back of the Stonefoot's neck.

It hit with precision and a solid, audible _chop_ to the vertebra where neck met spine.

Aurvang collapsed to his knees, then sideways like a limp puppet.

After a moment, Fili put a boot on the traitor's shoulder and rolled him to his back, neck clearly at an unnatural angle.

Aurvang lay dead...his axe hand crushed and broken, and a small pool of blood seeping from the gash where the King had neatly severed his spinal cord.

Fili pinned his gaze on the rest of the Grey Mountains people before him, steel in his blue eyes.

"Anyone else?" he asked, barely containing his fury.

To a person, those gathered in the halls were silent. The Grey Mountains people stood stone still.

Guilty. The whole group.

"Hear now my sentence," he said to them. "You are ejected for eternity from the Mountain and the lands of Erebor," Fili's anger and disgust made him sound more like his Uncle Thorin than he knew. "By decree." He was done with the _law_ of it, and he could decree anything he damn well wanted. He turned and strode back to his throne, thrusting his swords at an assistant for cleaning.

"Be it known to the Guard of Erebor that any of these seen returning to our lands shall be executed on sight," he ordered. He turned back to the nine remaining criminals. "All rights and privileges are revoked. You have one hour to be on the road."

"My lord," someone demanded. A female voice. It was Yngvli's older daughter. She pushed through the others and rushed forward, backed hesitantly by Yngvli himself.

"What about me?" she called out. "I am innocent, and I have made a marriage proposal that has been before you for over a week." She hiked her skirts up and walked toward the King, her indignation clear.

A moment later Fili had a wicked-looking long knife in his hand, having drawn it in sheer anger. He'd had enough of these idiots.

The lady stopped as if suddenly aware that her own neck could be at risk.

"You're no innocent," he growled, his temper barely in check, his voice rising. "You're part of a rabble that has threatened the lives of _two_ kings today." He paused. There were shocked murmurs in the crowd, but no one would take her part, not now. She was a criminal and a manipulator and unworthy of a place among true dwarves.

"Your petition," he went on, spelling it out for her. "Is a revoked right and privilege included in the category of _all_." He glared at her, unabashed that his response labelled her an idiot, being in no mood to suffer a fool.

With that he gestured to Kili and stalked out through the King's Door. He trusted the Royal Guard to enact the decree and send the group packing. He knew they would tail them, reporting back on their movements. He even knew that Gloin would ensure Yngvli handed over the 50,000 coins before departing.

But he stopped, just inside the private passage, sheathing his long knife and waiting for his brother to catch up.

His glare was stern enough to warn the guard escorts back, and it even frightened his pages, who took off at a run.

Kili limped up beside him and Fili put his arm around his brother to help him along.

"I'm all right," Kili insisted quietly.

"You were swaying where you sat," Fili groused. "I could see it from the corner of my eye. Damn distracting."

And together they walked the distance back to the King's quarters in silence.

.

.

.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Thank you for reading along!** As always, extra hand-on-heart to **Jessie152** (and proofreader Tallboy) for the German translations, posted here on fan fiction under the name **summerundJessie**. If you'd like, go give it a fave, even if you don't read in German (helps attract other readers.) You can also find it on the German fan fiction site (fanfiktion dot de). Shout-out to our new "de" fan Luise!

As always, any feedback you have time to provide is very welcome! Thanks to all of you who've left notes-it really helps to keep the project going. As it is the season for Durin's Day-Mahal's Blessings!

Summer (and Jessie!)

Khuzdul is sourced from the Dwarrow Scholar's online English/Khuzdul dictionary (kudos to the Scholar!)

 _omrid_ = death


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Nÿr found herself sitting at a neat round table as the lone guest at tea with the Queen. Lady An had a classic dwarf-lass beauty, with a narrow nose and a wealth of luxurious red-brown curls. Sitting with her was dizzying, really, but it included a look at some very enlightening genealogy charts which revealed the presence of the one name Nÿr's foster mother had known and shared: that of her maternal grandmother Nâl.

"My foster mother never said much about my mother," Nÿr said, carefully sitting very straight and proper. "Only that she was wounded and dying...and asked Ruby to take me. She said that my name was Nÿr, and that she had named me for her mother Nâl."

The Queen's brows drew together in thought. "It's an un-common name," she pointed to Nâl's place on the chart before them—a daughter three generations from Nain the Second's younger son, born in Erebor around the same time as Fundin—who was her distant cousin. There also was the name of Nâl's husband Hrolf and the date they were married: 2768. Two years before the Dragon descended on Erebor. But the lineage ended there.

"If you're here, your grandmother must have escaped the dragon attack," An concluded with a smile. "Which means there are likely records elsewhere—Balin told me about an archive started in Khelethur. I can write to the head archivist…many of the survivors wrote down their family stories as testaments."

Nÿr could hardly take it in. "My Lady…" She was shaking her head, unable to find words—she could only think how improbable this all was—and how much trouble.

An touched her arm. "Sweetheart—you can hear ravens. That alone is all the proof anyone needs that you are a Daughter of Durin. No matter how distant, you have kin here and a place of honor—as well as my word that I will see you protected."

But Nÿr shook her head. "My Lady...I'm just a healer apprentice." She stopped, trying to find words.

An just smiled kindly and poured more tea, letting her have time to think.

"I need to complete my studies," Nÿr said quietly. "I have a year left—and I want to _be_ a healing physician…I don't want…" Nÿr found it suddenly hard to know what she did or didn't want, let alone whether she should say any of it to Erebor's Queen. "I don't want to be trouble. For anyone. I wouldn't want to be singled out from my classmates…"

An looked at her, assessing her words.

"There's good sense in that," she said, finally nodding. "My Lord Husband may have an opinion of his own, you realize—but your anonymity has protected you this long—it's reasonable to keep letting it protect you."

Nÿr nodded and looked down, grateful that the Lady understood, though she was honestly astonished by the idea that the _King_ would have even a single thought for _her_.

"In the meantime, Gloin may know something of Nâl," An said, deep in thought. "Or even Dwalin…"

But before Nÿr could make sense of those revered dwarves having anything to do with a lowly trainee like herself, one of the chamberlains arrived with news.

And then their work ended abruptly when Fili's three young pages dashed in, out of breath and reporting the events of the Court...including a death threat to the King's children, followed by the King spectacularly executing the offender.

Lady An paled, rose in alarm, and rushed to check on her youngsters.

Nÿr followed. But the royal nursery had been built generations ago to be one of the safest places deep within the mountain.

The Queen's three youngest ran to crowd around their mother, and in a library alcove beyond, Nÿr saw her oldest son stand from his chair at a study desk, his tutor looking on in concern.

Nÿr looked away, unaccountably envious of the easy affection between the Queen and her wealth of children as they chattered and clamored for her attention. Then the three younger ones were off to join the nannies, who'd taken a tip from their Lady to distract the children as best they could. Apparently, a secret box of special toys needed finding, and that was all it took to send three young dwarrows off on the hunt.

"What is it, mother?" The Queen's oldest son stayed next to her, giving Nÿr a quick nod of respect but meeting his mother's eyes with concern. The lad was a mix of his royal parents with his father's sunny coloring, and he'd filled out enough to be just past the awkwardness of early adolescence. Nÿr guessed he'd be as tall as his uncle in just a few more years.

"Court business...keep watch, Fjalar." Nÿr saw the Queen touch her son's arm and the lad nodded in accord. Clearly he was used to being the protector of his younger siblings.

And then noise in the outer rooms signaled the return of the brothers. Lady An whirled to hurry back to meet them and Nÿr followed.

Fili had blood on his robes. Kili was nearly grey in exhaustion. Together, Nÿr and An divested them of their crowns and their finery, handing it all off to the chamberlains.

Nÿr felt lucky—steering Kili to his chamber was relatively easy. In the other room, their King fussed, his temper in need of an audience. She also got the feeling he would instantly draw swords again if anyone even hinted another threat aimed at his children.

"Don't worry," Kili grimaced as he sat exhausted on the edge of his bed. "An knows how to calm him down." He eased himself gratefully to the pillows and closed his eyes as Nÿr set his boots and dress clothes aside.

She pulled the blankets up and felt his forehead. He was hot again. Too hot. She used the last of the steeped _athelas_ to bathe his face and she lifted the covers back from his leg to get a look at the old scarring—it definitely had her attention and she made mental notes about the coloration and swelling—maybe there were cases in some of the older archive tomes about such wounds.

And that was why she never noticed another person in the chamber until Kili's royal brother was standing there, stripping off his shirt.

She looked up to realize it was her King in nothing but his trousers, his very worried attention wholly on the exhausted dwarf tucked into the bed.

"How is he?"

She simply stood in shock, not knowing whether to bow or cover her eyes. The King was quite obviously as fit as any younger warrior—and his muscles sported bold blue tattoos showing the sigils of a master swordsmith. It was a very intimate thing to see and she suddenly didn't have any idea what protocol should be followed.

"Right now I'm no one but his brother," he said softly, his temper apparently exhausted. He glanced at her. "Just tell me how he is."

She bit her lip but latched onto duty to cover her confusion. "He is much worse. The herbs have helped, but the fever's back. I think it's higher. The scars are discolored again as well, and the swelling around his knee has more than doubled. It's as if the joint's infected…"

Fili nodded, his face serious. He reached out to feel his brother's forehead. "The fever always spikes after sunset on Durin's Day."

Nÿr looked up. That had to be right about now.

"And nothing we've ever tried will stop it."

"Not even the _athelas_?"

Kili's eyes opened a little, his watery, fevered gaze riveted on his brother.

"Not really," Fili said. "He almost died all those years ago." He turned and looked at Nÿr, then sighed. "We'll have a rather horrible night," he said. "And then the fever will vanish before sunrise."

She considered the course of the fever, then understood. "Because it's a curse, not an infection."

Fili nodded. "Because it's a curse."

Nÿr saw his expression change into something complex: concern, guilt, worry...a King must have a hundred worries, she realized. And for eighty-odd years, Fili had been living with the curse as much as his brother had.

She watched him adjust the covers, then sit on the edge of the bed and lean down to touch foreheads with his brother. Kili moved his hand from beneath the blanket, and Fili gripped it.

A gentle touch on Nÿr's shoulder made her turn to see Lady An beckoning her away. She silently followed the older lady, who led her into the family quarters and turned to close the door behind her, but not before Nÿr saw that the King had gathered his brother in his arms and held him close. Just two warriors, both in pain.

"They were raised side-by-side to duty and honor," An said unapologetically. "Together they are the heart and soul of this Mountain." Their eyes met, and Nÿr saw fierce protectiveness in her Queen's eyes.

Then An raised an ironic eyebrow. "They are also its temper and its obstinacy." She smiled as if this were a jest and took Nÿr's arm, leading her into the family's great room.

"But are they not also themselves?" Nÿr spoke up. "It seems they are only two brothers, sweet and really…quite vulnerable."

An nodded. "Yes, they are. But I think that knowledge is for you and I alone. And maybe Iri, someday. And perhaps your own daughter, when you have her."

Nÿr stared, a bit shocked at the Queen's presumption.

An only smiled. "They are rough and ready in the halls, Durin's sons through and through. But here, in these rooms, we are only each others' loved ones. It is the family sanctuary." She turned to face Nÿr, taking both her hands. "And frankly, I could use some help. If you Choose him, you will belong here, too."

Nÿr kept staring. "My Lady…" She felt she needed to re-explain just how unacceptable she was…

An raised a hand. "No more fussing. I'm ordering up a fresh pot of tea so we can finish going through everything I have. I am recalling something Balin shared with me just before my oldest was born...in case he was a lass." She smiled. "I think it may serve you well…"

* * *

Fili, King of Erebor, had spent the night of Durin's Day doing the same thing for the last eighty-odd years. He belonged with his brother...and kept the secret of his curse in close confidence. Now, in the cold hours after midnight, Kili writhed in his pain, his face flushed with fever. He finally cried out, unable to hold back. He was shaking, his breathing too fast and too shallow, and he was barely conscious.

Fili, alarmed, pulled him into a tight embrace. " _Mahal_ , Kili. Just hang on…just hang on for me…"

"Nothing…" Kili slurred, half pushing him away. "Nothing here…for you…"

Fili gripped him tighter, feeling his brother's heart thumping in distress.

"It's not real, Kili," he murmured, hoping to soothe him. It was a recurring thing in Kili's fever over all the long years. Someone tormented him in his dreams. "Just a nightmare. Think about something else—think about the sun on the western slope in the spring…"

He saw Kili's fevered brows draw together and his breathing slowed and he squinted, as if trying to meet

Fili's eyes. "He wants to know…he wants inside the mountain…"

Fili stared. He'd heard this before, even shared the basics with Gandalf.

 _The reach of Sauron is vast, Fili,_ Gandalf had said. _We should not under-estimate his ability to touch your brother in the depths of his fever._

They'd always feared Sauron could learn things about Erebor from Kili—learn about its defenses. Learn that the Ring was not here...even though they all knew the Dark Lord suspected it.

 _You must keep up the pretense,_ Gandalf had told him. _The longer Sauron thinks the dragon buried it in the depths of Erebor, the longer we have to discover what really happened to it. Fortunately, Thorin's behavior before the Battle adds to the Dark Lord's suspicions that it was found and that it resides in Erebor._

Fili closed his eyes. Fact was, Thorin's behavior might well have been the fault of the Ring. What Fili knew now, all these years later, is that the Ring really had been in Erebor that winter...in the pocket of Bilbo Baggins.

But lucky for him, it had left when Bilbo left.

"Sauron's gone," Fili said aloud, as much as to himself as to his brother. "Frodo destroyed the Ring and Sauron with it. You saw the black clouds vanish...you told me yourself."

"…wants us dead," Kili shook his head and mumbled, fevered eyes wide open, dark circles beneath them. "All of us…"

Fili stayed firm. "No!" He clenched his jaw and pressed his forehead to Kili's, as if he could be the shield that kept such thoughts from entering Kili's mind. "Mordor has fallen, Kili. Do you understand this? He has no power here," he emphasized with a grip on on his brother's hand. "Never again."

But Kili was beyond hearing him.

 _"Mahal,_ Kee…" Fili gritted his teeth. This was when it got worse…when Kili could no longer resist the pain and the fever rose…

Fili closed his eyes, held his brother tightly and resorted to the prayer he'd used for the last eighty-two years. _Mahal, receive my brother if he arrives at your halls…welcome him home with open arms…_

And his heart sank with an inner dread that was more than worry for his _nadadith_.

 _Sauron's gone, but something's still out there._

All the hard years, all the sacrifices, all those they'd lost.. Brand of Dale. Dain of the Iron Hills. Boromir of Gondor. Haldir of Lothlorien, Theoden of Rohan…Tauriel of the Woodland Realm, Balin, Oin, Ori…Thorin himself.

Fili had known most of them. Surviving himself was no gift and in fact, simply made him feel left behind and guilty for surviving when many equally worthy warriors had not.

 _By the grace of Aüle, not Kili of Erebor. Never Kili..._

"Sauron's gone," he repeated. "You're here with me, and you're safe…"

One trembling hand reached up and Fili grabbed it, holding tight.

In the last hours before dawn the fever intensified. Fili's comforting embrace became an essential restraint, wrapping his arms around his brother in desperation to keep him from hurting himself as he struggled and thrashed…and then he just went limp and the tremors threatened to become convulsions.

And Fili's feeling of dread grew. It was clear that his brother still heard someone in the depths of his curse. What was unresolved? Did the spirit of Sauron linger somehow? And why did the damnable curse still have its strength?

Fili tried to sort through the problem. He would need to find Gandalf...or at least Elrond...

But he couldn't truly make sense of things. Not while Kili suffered in this madness. _Later,_ he told himself. _For now…Mahal, please just let the sun rise and my brother live…_

* * *

Kili woke on the morning after Durin's Day curled against his brother's back.

It was just innocent dwarven, brotherly comfort of the sort so easily misinterpreted by men.

Elves, of course, didn't bat an eye at such things.

 _You'd think we'd grow out of it,_ Kili mused. He listened to Fili's quiet snoring. No use waking him.

He'd stayed here all night, after all. After two days of sheer insanity, he was sure Fili needed his sleep.

Kili tried to ban the memory of recent events. Guards caught in a rockfall. The sight of Fili fighting a traitor. Blood in the King's Hall. It all merged with his fuzzy memory of the fever, the searing pain of burning cramps in his leg…the grip on his brother's hand the only thing connecting him to something sane while he could see nothing but red haze.

 _That horrible voice...taunting and raging..._

By Mahal he wished this would end. He wanted to never feel the pain and fire of the curse again, never hear himself screaming in agony.

On the minus side, it would all be back, same time next year.

On the plus side, he was apparently off the Grey Mountains marriage proposal list.

 _Mahal, yes._

Fili had stopped snoring.

"You're awake." Fili's hand touched Kili's.

"Mmm."

"Better?"

Kili nodded. "Just…wrung out. Brain feels itchy."

"You say that every year."

Neither of them moved, comfortable as they were.

"You can go sleep in your own bed, you know," Kili said, referring to a long standing joke between them that dated back to the time when he was little Hannar's age and afraid of lightning storms.

"What, you think my Lady Wife's going to be jealous?"

Kili snorted. "Your Lady Wife appreciates the break."

"That's what you know about wives, little brother." After a moment he changed the subject. "Remind me to find that infernal marriage proposal and rip it to shreds."

"Hand it to me and I'll do it for you," Kili murmured.

"And I swear if I don't see one from that healer lass before the end of the week, I'm writing it for her myself."

* * *

At mid-morning three days later, an item on the King's consent calendar required Kili's presence in the King's Hall. It was the usual day set aside for court proceedings, attended by all of the councilors, many of the leading families, and the usual collection of onlookers. If they were unusually formal and polite, Kili tried to chalk it up to the fact that negotiations had successfully wrapped the day before (the King of Ered Mithrel having survived and voted from his bed) rather than the feeling that people were suddenly more mindful of their King's temper and their desires to keep their necks unbroken.

Predictably, Kili had resumed his duties quickly, his strength returning as soon as Durin's Day passed. So when the item was called, Kili rose to stand at his place beside his brother, ready for anything.

A small contingent of dwarves approached the dais, including Nÿr, flanked by Old Dori, the trio of his nephews, and surprisingly, Dwalin and Gloin. Kili realized they were all acting as her guardians and representatives, as Lady An had apparently not determined which of them was actually Nÿr's closest Durin family link.

Dori stepped forward, made the formal greetings, then presented his matter to the King. "I bring a petition, my Lord, on behalf of the Lady Nÿr, our cousin, as I understand it, by way of her mother's relation to King Thror's Father's Brother's daughter. " He nodded, clearly enjoying the chance to address the King in assembly.

Kili raised his eyebrows. Not all that closely connected to him and Fili (or even Thorin) then, and well removed from the line of direct descent.

"Duly noted. Please continue," Fili prompted.

Dori smiled, bowed, smiled again, and carefully drew out a document and opened it. It seemed to have many folds and he nodded apologetically as he went. Next to him, arms folded, Dwalin actually rolled his eyes. Finally done, Dori smiled again and took a breath.

Kili wondered how the document could be so complex. A marriage proposal was generally quite to the point.

"I present," Dori managed an ornate bow, "A marriage petition from my cousin, the Lady Nÿr, to the family of Prince Kili of Erebor."

Kili saw his brother pause a moment, then nod for Dori to go on, adopting a very serious expression. It wouldn't do to look as if he had anticipated this, though Kili had to carefully avoid looking at Dwalin and stop from rolling his eyes himself at the absurd dance they were all doing. Why couldn't the two involved just agree and have done?

Across the room, he saw Dori looking from the document in his hand to Nÿr, and then back. "Is this really…?" he whispered to her. Beside him, Nÿr simply nodded and tilted her head as if to say _get on with it._ Dwalin looked ready to growl in her defense.

Kili frowned, not quite sure what the question could be. Marriage petitions were all about the Lady's Choice and the lads couldn't gainsay it. That was the point.

Then Dori cleared his throat. "The proposal at hand…" he glanced at Nÿr again, who only raised an eyebrow at him, backed by Dwalin's glower. Dori nodded, dithered, and then seemed to steel himself. "Invokes a courtship year, of a time not to exceed twelve months, with the necessary codicils and addendums stipulating conditions for my lady's continued studies toward her achievement of Full Physician status..." Dori looked uncertain at this point, glanced at Nÿr, then seemed to feel he'd said enough and finished by looking back at the King and saying, "Et cetera." He held out the document for the King's Clerk to take as if fully expecting the King's temper to flare.

Kili blinked, wondering if he'd heard that correctly. But he kept his mouth closed. Tradition stipulated that the intendeds did not speak. He could only look at his brother and trust Fili's court experience to sort this out.

But his brother had raised his eyebrows and appeared just as taken aback.

Lady An saved the moment. "My Lord?" she stepped to her husband's side.

Fili nodded. "Please," he said, looking more like he was tossing her a flaming pine cone in panic rather than the right to speak.

Lady An held an old, leather bound book and opened it to a particular page. She pointed to one entry as she handed it to the Clerk. "The Lady is within her rights," the Queen stated clearly. "The late Lord Balin once shared this with me—it is the law relating to a rare privilege given only to a Lady of Durin's line, dating back to the daughters of Nain the First: the right of a courtship period, by the end of which she may reject the lad to whom she has proposed should he prove unacceptable."

Fili looked affronted, and his response was sharp. "But the lad in question is also of Durin's line and several degrees closer in direct descent." Kili stayed still. In fact, the entire court held its breath. Fili's frowning glare didn't bode well for his temper.

Lady An made a graceful curtsey to accede the point. "It simply allows time for the intendeds to get to know each other and prove their compatibility. It is seen as a more genteel path for the line of Durin," she added. "In fact, our own daughter, the Princess Iri, will have the option of this right when it comes time for her to make her own Choice."

Kili watched his brother blink, then sit back. After a moment he looked more comfortable with the idea, put into that context. The slightly accusing look Fili exchanged with his Lady Wife couldn't have said _how come I never got that chance?_ more clearly than if he'd said it aloud.

Kili suppressed a grin and looked across the room at Nÿr. She was brilliant. This was perfect.

Shyly, she looked up and met his gaze. Her expression seemed to him one part apology, but the other part was her own independent sureness. Her life goals were her own, and he suddenly knew that a big part of what attracted him was her strong, un-assuming self-confident spirit of purpose. She had her own ideas about what her life would be and was not the kind who would set that aside for anyone.

Not even a Prince.

Let alone a kid from Ered Luin.

And truthfully, neither of them would be happy if she did, him most of all. He wanted her to be his equal and have her own status, self-earned. The fact that she was a healer instead of a warrior bothered him not at all. In fact, it made her his perfect opposite.

Kili smiled.

He became aware of his brother watching him. He turned to meet Fili's eyes, and they didn't need to speak in order to understand each other.

Fili arched an eyebrow at him as if to say, _Well, at least it's a step in the right direction._ Kili just stood firm.

Fili rose to address the court, his usual placid nature re-asserting itself. "Very well. May the record show that I accept a petition from the family of Lady Nÿr on behalf of my brother, Prince Kili of Erebor. Prince Kili," he called in the formal manner. "May I present the Lady Nÿr, to whom we have consented to…" he paused, searching for an alternate phrase to the usual words. "A courtship year."

Kili smiled gently and stepped forward, eyes set on the simple beauty of the tall healer lass with the perfect green eyes and the long, single raven-black braid.

He placed one hand over his heart.

"My Lady," he said, bowing deeply. "I am honored."

.

.

.

* * *

 **THANK YOU** for reading along...no, it's not quite over-a bit of epilogue will follow! There might be one important thing left to do... :P

As always, huge appreciation to **Jessie152** and **Tallboy** for the simultaneous translation in German. There's a version on this site (under **summerundJessie** ) and on fanfiktion dot de under **Jessie152**.

Hand on heart to all of you! If you're traveling for the holidays, please have safe journeys!

Mahal's Blessings,

Summer (and Jessie!)


	16. Chapter 16

**Epilogue, Part One**

"I hear congratulations are finally in order for you, lad," old Bofur's merry eyes sparkled as he rolled up a stack of sketches and drawings from the large table in the Stonesmith's planning chambers.

Kili smiled and shouldered a leather scroll case in the place where he normally carried a quiver of arrows. Overall, he was amazed at how happy the people of Erebor were about the news that Lady Nÿr had chosen him…not for marriage, but for a courtship year.

"Who'd have thought, huh?" he said, shy and proud at the same time.

Bofur sidled up to him. "No more bachelor life, though." He tsked. "But what I don't understand is why the wait? Lassies generally want to get on with it…" He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

Kili laughed. "It's pretty old-fashioned, isn't it? I'm all for it, though. I mean, we'd really only just met and it feels better this way."

"What he means," Old Dwalin hobbled up. "Is his brother wanted him out of the running, but no lassie in her right mind was going to take the risk." He winked and grabbed Bofur's shoulder for support as he walked past.

Bofur laughed again. "But what I wonder, though, is this: what do you do? Exactly?" He made a face. "Courtship? What does that even mean?"

Kili had to admit he was a little uncertain on that point himself. "Just…get to know her," he said, turning his old friend toward the door. "Find out what makes her happy…help her out."

Bofur stared, even as he walked for the door, looking at the younger dwarf as if he was nuts. "But how's that going to get you any action in the sack? I mean, that's the point, isn't it?"

Kili made a face as if amused but not willing to go further, but in fact, he was at odds with himself: on one hand, he wanted to show his love gently and with reverence...on the other, he had an ingrained urge to claim her with all his strength and passion. That one night in a snow cave was not his idea of romantic pleasure and he was keen to prove that he could do better. "I am soooo not discussing this with you," he laughed at Bofur, shaking his head. He patted his old friend on the back and waved his farewell as he left.

But as he strode from the Stonesmith's meeting, he knew that Bofur had a point. What exactly was a courtship and what was he supposed to be doing to prove his worth?

Fact was, the announcement was made, everyone had raised a glass at the big post-negotiations feast…and then she went back to healer training and he went back to commanding the Erebor Guard and attending all the meetings that his brother didn't have time for.

And there was nothing romantic about that. Not a thing.

But tonight he had a plan. A good one. At least he hoped it was good. He'd gone over it with his brother that morning, who approved the idea, but then carefully wouldn't predict its success.

"You're on your own, there. Not even going to guess." He'd given Kili a shake of the head and then slapped him on the back and sauntered off.

So Kili was feeling out on a limb all by himself.

Other dwarves passed by with polite nods of respect, dispersing quickly down halls and up stairways. The discussions had been long, and many of them were overdue for their supper.

Kili strode to the main hall, then went left at a turn and down a little-used side ramp. Two turns later, he entered one of the busy merchant halls. He scanned the crowd, then spotted Skirfir, out of uniform but casually standing watch at a busy three-way intersection, a pair of crutches helping him keep his weight off his mending leg.

"Doing better today?" Kili asked, eyeing the lad's complicated splint. Skirf's leg had been causing him a lot of pain—a problem for which Kili had great sympathy.

Skirf managed a smile. "Yes, sir. My Lady Healer prescribed sleeping tea…"

" _Your_ Lady Healer," Kili snorted in jest.

Skirfir grinned. He seemed quite pleased that his Commander had been Chosen. But before he could say anything more, a young off-duty page came around a corner, obviously looking for Skirf, and skidded to a halt, bowing quickly to his Prince.

"Speak, lad," Skirfir prompted.

"Sir. The _danakha_ has just left the Elder's Hall," he reported.

Kili raised an eyebrow at the Kuzdhul word. The green lady? _Nÿr. Mahal, they've set up a watch and given her a code-name._ He suppressed a grin, realizing they'd used green for her beautiful eyes. He approved Skirf's initiative and found the complexity a bit amusing.

But he wasn't about to argue with success.

"Thanks, lad." Skirfir nodded to the page, sending him off. Then he winked at Kili, who certainly knew how to put field intelligence to good use.

Kili's hand on Skirf's shoulder conveyed his appreciation of the news. "Get some dinner and a good night's rest," he said in a low voice. "And raise a flagon for my luck." He made a serious face and Skirfir blushed—but the lad also looked eager for his commander to succeed.

Kili didn't waste time. He headed for the Great Hub. Criss-crossed with open-air walkways and lined with great flights of stone stairs, the inner core of the Lonely Mountain glowed with a beautiful golden light from strings of suspended oil-lamps, and it literally buzzed with people at this time of day. He nodded and smiled as dwarves, lads and maidens alike, recognized him and offered smiles or quick greetings.

But he wasn't looking to get distracted. He was looking for Nÿr. Tall and slender for a dwarf maiden, his intended would be dressed in healer blue and carrying her medic's satchel, and if he knew her, at least one (if not more) medical tomes. If she had just left the Elder's Hall, she should be heading back to the student dorms...

He finally spotted her on a lower ramp, and quickly took a shortcut down. He came up behind her, dodging a group of merchants.

"Nÿr!" he called, striding forward.

She turned, and he caught up, catching her hand in his.

Her smile was serene, lovely, and just for him. He leaned forward for a quick (and properly chaste) kiss. His warrior's heart had the sudden urge for more, but of course not here...not in public.

"Busy day?" she asked, a happy twinkle in her eye.

"Very," he rolled his eyes and hiked his shoulder to show the scroll case. "Renovation planning.

My brother always says the dragon had Erebor less than two hundred years, but it will take us twice that to fix up the place—mostly because everybody has to argue every point at least five times."

"So…you're brokering negotiations." Nÿr suppressed a smile.

"Exactly. The miners want to re-open the north spur of the silverlode shaft, the Stonesmiths want a year to shore up the mine entry, and all the Crafthall Master wants is twice as much silver ore as soon as he can get it." He smiled at the luck of having that kind of problem over fears of imminent attack. "And you?"

"Eight cases of gout, three head wounds, and two births."

"Two?" Kili's face lit up. The people of Erebor were thriving and an uptick in new babies proved it. "That's…what, eleven this week?"

"Fifteen. One dozen lads and three lassies."

Kili loved how her face always glowed with a quiet pride when she talked about the newborns. Inwardly, it fed the fire of his need to prove himself to her.

 _Easy, lad._ "You must be exhausted," he said.

"A little." Then her smile disappeared.

"What?"

"I have hours of studying to do tonight," she looked apologetic. "Group exam tomorrow at mid-day."

Kili tried not to look disappointed.

"It wouldn't be so bad," she went on, "Except we have a new class of beginner lasses who," she looked away as if struggling for a diplomatic description. "Are quite young. There's far more chatter and silliness going on in our quarters than actual studying."

Kili grinned. "Then it's a good thing I found you." He reached inside his jacket and pulled out an odd, old key on a blue silk cord. "Are you up for a surprise?"

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, though she was clearly interested. "Only if it involves three hours of reviewing burn treatments." She hiked up the large tome she carried in the crook of her arm as evidence.

Kili adopted his most serious face. "On my honor, I promise." He held the key out to her, brassy and bright in the palm of his hand.

They stopped on the stairway landing and Nÿr took the key, considering it. Finally she looked up with a quirky smile on her face.

"If there is a key, there must be a door?" she teased.

That was all the answer he needed. He grabbed her hand and headed for the Halls of Learning, not so far from the healer's dorm and the training infirmary where Nÿr spent many of her hours.

But once they reached the busy halls, Kili passed by the well-used main corridors, looking instead for something else. At a six-way intersection, he stopped and pulled her forward.

"This," he said, nodding to an old carving in blue stone. "Is the statue of Jormund the Apothecary."

Nÿr nodded. "Yes, I know. He wrote _The_ _Basic Book of Simples_."

"But that," Kili said, turning her left toward a nondescript passage that looked like it led to a cleaner's closet. "…is where we're going. But since we don't want everyone noticing…or worse, following," they exchanged a significant look. "We need to wait for a moment until the halls are clear."

So they stood next to Jormund's statue and feigned interest in it, and after waiting several minutes, found an opportunity when no one would see them slip inside the little passage.

Together they followed the lamp-lit, narrow corridor around three sharp corners and up two short staircases, leading quickly to a single, very old, carved stone door.

Nÿr stared. She could see no keyhole in the usual place.

Kili pointed to an ornament in the center. "There," he whispered.

Nÿr held out the key, slid it into the lock, and then stopped. "What's inside here?" she asked, clearly curious.

Kili smiled and shook his head. "Not telling. You have to see for yourself."

.

.

.

* * *

 ****A/N: Thanks** **for reading! One more chapter to go...** and huge thanks to the German translation team: **Jessie152** and **Tallboy**!

Just a reminder that there's a Pinterest page for all the fabulous fan art that I've seen over the last couple years-just google **Summer Alden Pinterest** and you should find it (It's the Durin's Day board.) I also have a tumblr ( **summerald**.) Though I'm not blogging as much as reblogging. :P

I know it's likely a busy week where readers are-but if you have a moment, a quick note or review is always helpful and it keeps us focused on the work! Safe travels (if you're traveling) and feel free to drop holiday wishes from wherever you are as well! (I'll start!)

 _ **Happy Holidays from San Francisco!**_

 **Summer**


	17. Chapter 17

**Epilogue, Part II: The End**

Kili watched Nÿr turn the key until the old lock clicked. The door opened surprisingly smooth and silent for such old hinges.

And then she gasped as the room inside came into view, gently lit by the oil lamps he'd set earlier.

He watched her face go blank, then transform in wonder as she took it in, seeing the fireplace, the rug, the bookcases, and the long oak table complete with blown-glass study lamps.

"What is this place?" she breathed.

Kili took her hand and guided her inside. The answer was complicated, but he had already decided not to burden her with its entire history.

"It's a room my mother used when she studied under the schoolmasters. Balin showed it to me years ago." He smiled, trying to keep the rest of the story at bay.

In truth, it had also been used by his Uncles Thorin and Frerin, and it had become Balin's favorite haunt after the dragon years.

It had also been the very place where he and Fili had last spoken to Nÿr's distant cousin Ori before their friend had departed on that ill-fated journey to Moria.

But he and Fili had decided that the room deserved a new life, free from the memory of people long dead.

So they had agreed Kili and Nÿr should share it as a place of their own, away from prying eyes and social expectations.

"I thought we might both like a place with some privacy," he said. "You can use it whenever you want," he went on, nodding at the key he'd given her. "No one's been up here for years. Well, except An's maids—she insisted on sending them up to clean this morning." He watched now as Nÿr turned a slow circle. Had he guessed correctly? Would she like it?

Or was he presuming too much?

Nÿr stopped and stood still, as if mesmerized. "The bookcases…!" she breathed.

He gently took the oversized medical tome out of her arm. "Which chair do you want?"

She considered the study table and put her hand on the back of the first chair, wood with a comfortable stuffed cushion on the seat. "This one is fine," she murmured, looking stunned. He realized she'd probably never had a room of her own.

He set her book down, then stepped around to the chair at the other end, dropping his scroll case from his shoulder and setting it on the tabletop.

"You have reading...I have construction plans to look at." He shrugged. "I thought we could both use the study time," he said.

She smiled. "Both of us, bent over our papers, working into the night?" The idea seemed to amuse her, so he kept going.

Nervous, he showed her the wooden drawers for her paper and pens, even a place for his drafting supplies. He turned up the flame on the table lamp, then searched his pockets for his flint.

He held it up. "Shall I light the fire?" He hadn't meant to say it so softly, he realized. It had just come out that way. Then again, this would be the answer that told him whether she liked the place and wanted to stay.

She nodded, looking completely speechless.

He smiled in relief and bent to the task. The little fire crackled to light, but before he could stand, he felt a touch on his shoulder.

She knelt beside him, her hands gently cupping his face, and she leaned forward to kiss him.

Not one of those chaste, safe for public viewing kisses, either.

It was fervent enough to slowly push him off center and onto his backside.

"You have studying," he said, not really resisting another kiss.

"You want to stop?" she asked, not really pausing.

And after a week of nothing but proper and virtuous behavior between them, their spot on the

plush rug in front of the fire was far too tempting.

"Not," he said. "In the slightest." With that, he acted on his need to claim her...and he didn't hold back. He rose, one strong arm quickly turning his lovely lass to her back and he surged over her. His desire turned to a devouring kiss and he couldn't have stopped if he'd tried. But he was welcomed and she met his kisses with a sureness that fed his warrior's heart...she wanted him, opened herself to him with exquisite warmth, and showed him that she was not afraid to follow his need.

He pulled back then to catch his breath and took a moment to press his forehead to hers and caress her jaw with his thumb, murmuring her name one time, though he was far too overwhelmed for words.

"Hush," she said, her voice deeper than usual. Her hands found the buckle on his bandolier, releasing it, then the clasps on his over-vest and the ties on his over-shirt…

Mahal, the lass knew her way around his gear.

Healer...she'd surely divested many a lad of his battle armor to get to his wounds…

 _All the better for me,_ Kili smiled and then stopped her, got the flat of his hand under the hem of her healer's smock and had it over her head in a flash.

She laughed, and together they made rapid work of each other's outer gear-stripping away the clothing that identified them as _commander_ and _healer_ , until they were down to their underthings and saw each other only as _lad_ and _lass_.

From there on they took their time in a slow, passionate final disrobing of each other, stopping to explore skin and curves and muscle with eager hands and ardent mouths. This room was warm and comfortable, after all. Nothing at all like the rustic, freezing guard room of their first, rushed encounter. And he liked that she had a willingness to show him what she wanted. She made it abundantly clear where they were headed, and Kili was all too happy to oblige, though he genuinely made an effort to hold his strength in check and be considerate.

At least right up until the time that she urged him not to be.

 _Mahal, lass. Yes..._

* * *

Kili woke with Nÿr nestled against his shoulder, a soft quilt draped over them. The fire had burned to embers, but it was enough.

Enough for him to see her face, serene and relaxed.

He could survive the rest of this long year, he decided, if what happened next was the thing he hoped for.

He wanted to see her wake up next to him, wanted to know if the closeness he hoped for was really there. Because all the rest of it aside, that was the thing he was missing. Years of fighting and surviving the curse had brought this realization to him. He wanted the passion, yes. But he was also starved for the peace of simple tenderness and privacy to balance all his years of duty and service.

She moved and woke sooner than he expected.

He nearly held his breath.

She blinked at him and her expression went from questioning to…an utterly adorable look of wide-eyed wonder and acceptance. They were here, together, and she liked it. She nuzzled his jaw, and he kissed her forehead. She burrowed closer.

 _Yes. This is right._

"I love you," she murmured, her voice still sleepy and sated. Her hand reached across his chest and rested on his shoulder with a sweet gentleness that touched his soul.

"And I you," he said in a quiet voice, eyes closing in relief. "So much more than I can say."

They were going to be all right, he realized. And getting on with his life was not going to be so hard. In fact, he had a feeling it was going to be downright interesting.

.

.

.

* * *

 ****A/N:** Thank you so much for reading...hope you enjoyed! Even if you're late to the story, please be sure to leave a note or PM me...all feedback welcome!

And Good News! Stories 2-6 have already been written and are waiting for you to dive in! (If you're waiting for the German version of story 2, look for it to launch in January 2016.)

This revision of Story 1 couldn't have happened without feedback from the German translation team **Jessie152** and **Tallboy** , and the ongoing support and beta skills of **BlueRiverSteel, Nenithiel,** and **Cassandrala**. Also, a hand-on-heart shout-out to long-time readers **kickarora** , **yshxf** , and **idrylla**...who all faved in late 2013/early 2014 when I started this adventure on a whim. There are many more of you who've taken the time to send a message or exchange notes-huge thanks to all of you. You've made this an inspiring project!

I invite you to scoot on over to Ravenspeakers - and join Fili, Kili and the kids for more adventure! For those of you wondering about Kili, Nyr, and the possibility of their own future kids-the whole next 5 stories cover that journey, which is not without trials and dangers. (They're not wed _yet,_ gentle readers!)

In the meantime, here's a teaser, just to whet your appetite for the continuing adventure...come on over!

* * *

 **Erebor, 3022: Ravenspeakers, A Courtship Year Story 2**

 **Chapter One**

Kili, Prince of Erebor, Commander of the Guard, and newly betrothed of the healer trainee Nÿr, stood on the open parapet of Ravenhill wrapped in a fur-lined leather cloak, his wealth of black hair streaming behind him in the icy wind.

Beside him stood his oldest nephew Fjalar, eager for his first chance at Ravenspeaking. The lad was in the early stages of dwarf adolescence, with a scruff of beard and sun-gold hair much like his father's (minus the streaks of sheer white) and his snow cloak sported the King's royal crest. He stood taller than most lads his age—the top of his head nearly up to his uncle's shoulder, and he was just losing his child's frame and starting to fill out with some real muscle. He was young, to be sure…but Kili could see the promise of the lad. A few more years, some training and some weight…and Fili's son would make Durin himself proud.

"You remember everything your father said?" Kili asked, watching his nephew stride forward to look over the edge.

"Of course." And then the lad stopped himself and backed up to take position again at his uncle's side. "I mean…yes, sir."

Kili suppressed a grin. He recalled being Fjalar's age…so eager to learn and do new things…and so impulsive and easily distracted. He was certain he and his brother had driven their own uncle mad with it—which was one reason he had only one prince in his charge today and not all three.

But fact was, Erebor had only six capable Ravenspeakers. They needed more.

Yet bringing the lad into the open and giving him public responsibilities was not without risk. The war might be over and new King crowned in Gondor...but there were still evil creatures in the dark corners of Middle Earth who would hunt a Son of Durin to his death, and Fili was not easily letting go of his protective instincts. He loved his children with a fierceness that Kili knew well.

Because he'd known it himself ever since he could remember...

.

.

.

* * *

Hop on over to **Erebor, 3022: Ravenspeakers, A Courtship Year Story 2** for the rest of the chapter! **  
**

Mahal's Blessings,

Summer


End file.
